


Nori Knows

by in_a_blog_in_the_ground



Series: Brothers Three [9]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Erebor, Gen, Khazad-dum, Moria, The Lonely Mountain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_a_blog_in_the_ground/pseuds/in_a_blog_in_the_ground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori knows his brother is dead.</p><p>After the letters stop coming from Moria, Nori gets a bad feeling, and under the excuse of having itchy feet, takes again to the road to prove himself wrong.</p><p>He hates it when he's right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this story is a combined pre- and sequel to Brave Ori, which I just bashed out one night riding on a wave of LOTR/Moria/Ori feels. 
> 
> Stay tuned for, well, heartbreak, if I do my job right. Especially if you love the Ri Bros as much as I love the Ri Bros.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori and Dori are preparing to send off Ori, who is leaving with Balin and Oin to retake Moria.

“Keep safe, lit’le bruvvah,” Nori ruffled the hair of his youngest sibling as though he were still a child, and not a Hero of Erebor.

“I will, big bruvvah,” Ori returned, mimicking the slurring twang of Nori’s speech. He’d always loved listening to his brother’s voice that mixed the sounds of all the regions of Middle Earth he’d traveled to. I’m going to miss his stories, Ori thought as he good-naturedly smoothed down his hair, echoing Nori’s grin. But I’ll have stories of my own to tell when I come back!

For Ori, youngest of the Brothers ‘Ri, was leaving the halls of Erebor. He wouldn’t be alone, of course, Dori would have locked him in the vaults if he’d tried that. Especially where he was going. Ori would be joining a campaign led by Balin, Son of Fundin, to retake Khazad-dûm. He couldn’t be more excited to be taking to the road again, though he tried to hide it for the sake of his oldest brother.

Dori looked on, wringing his hands nervously. When Ori finally turned to him, he fussed over the younger dwarf’s cloak, his hair, whatever came to hand, really. “Do be careful, Ori, you know how clumsy you can be, watch out for loose rocks. Keep warm, mind your scarf. I packed you another one if this one gets lost or torn. And another one if that one gets lost or torn. Don’t forget to brush your teeth and eat your greens. I’m glad you’ve grown out of your intolerance for them, but don’t think I don’t notice when you push sprouts onto Nori’s plate. Honestly, I don’t know why you let him do that, Nor’.”

“’M not picky, an’ food is food.” Nori shrugged. He’d always been the least discriminatory of the brothers when it came to victuals, not even minding Elven fare. A life on the road had taught him, among other things, that one does not turn their nose up when a meal is to be had. Even if it is just your little brother’s unwanted vegetables. 

Not listening, Dori continued to fret over Ori, in his worry not hearing Ori’s gentle protests and Nori’s snickering. On the one hand, he was happy for Ori, whom he knew had been feeling cooped up in the Mountain, despite several long journeys over the years to visit old friends and sites they had passed through, even going as far once as to see their old home in Ered Luin. More often than not, Nori had gone with him, having itchy feet himself. This time though, the journey would be without either of his brothers, at his insistence, because it would be to somewhere totally New, and Ori wanted to have that experience at least once. He had always been adventurous in his heart of hearts, and while never quite resentful of growing up in his brothers’ respective and very different shadows, Ori was just as independent as either of them, in his own way. On the other hand, Dori was worried sick. Of course, this was just his general nature when it came to things outside his immediate control, especially when it concerned his brothers. Oh, the countless half-heart attacks he had had when Nori went wandering…and now Ori was leaving too… 

Oh, Ori. This was not the same young, naive dwarf that he had chased after almost 50 years ago when they had left home, following Nori on Thorin's mad quest. Ori had grown so much. When had that happened? Abandoning the juvenile fringe cut straight across his brow, Ori began to grow his locks out and braid it in a tail behind his back, with two plaits behind his ears, keeping his hair out of his eyes. His beard came in full and thick sooner than he had expected, and Nori taught him how to arrange it in their family's traditional three sections. Though he still preferred soft and comfortable knitted wear to more the more traditional leather and wool, Ori had gotten quite good at making his own, and often knitted while he pored over manuscripts from Erebor’s library, which he had been slowly cataloging. A corner of the brothers’ tea shop was dedicated to Ori’s creations, which sold well and were popular as gifts.

Dori snapped out of his reverie to find Ori standing before him, waving a mittened hand in front of his face. Nori stood behind, one eyebrow raised in bemusement. "In yer own time, bruvvah. Never mind that if we keep 'im any longer, Ori is goin' t'ave t'start 'is adventure running after Balin's caravans in a very undignified manner."

Dori huffed in indignation. "I-I was just thinking!” Taking his youngest brother by the shoulders, Dori held him at arm’s length to look at him. Bravely, he blinked away the sudden heartache and tears, and hugged Ori close, pounding him a few times on the back for good measure. 

A little winded, for his eldest brother had forgotten his own strength, Ori drew back after the embrace and smiled brightly. “Don’t worry, Dori! I promise I’ll write often, and when we come back, you can ask Mister Balin for confirmation of greens consumption.” Reassured by Dori’s tearful return smile that he would not have a breakdown, Ori prepared to hoist his traveling pack onto his shoulders, but was unexpectedly stopped by Nori.

Wordlessly, Nori pressed their brows against each other as he had done when they were growing up, but this time he held on to the back of Ori’s head, keeping them together for a moment, as solemn as either of his brothers had ever seen him. Then, as swiftly as if it had never been gone, his customary smile was back on his face, and he was helping Ori heft the pack up. “Oof, wot did ya put in ‘ere, Ori? Your entire library?”

Ori reddened, “I-I am going as the official scribe, you know! This isn’t just a lark!”

“Ha ha ha, I know, jus’ teasin’, lit’le bruvvah,” Nori chuckled. “Now, let’s get ye goin’ afore Dor’ starts blubberin’ again, and ye really do have to run after Balin. Dwalin would never let me ‘ear th’ end of it.”

Private good-byes over, and with Dori grumbling protests, the Brothers ‘Ri headed for the entrance hall from which the expedition would depart. Nori and Dori clasped arms with Balin and Oin, offering words of luck, while Dwalin and Gloin did the same to Ori. Huffing and puffing a little, the Family ‘Ur pushed their way through the crowds to their friends and wished the travelers a safe journey. Together again, perhaps for the last time in a while, the remaining members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield stood in silence for a moment, remembering the quest that had brought them together, and their fallen King, Princes, and Friends. The previous evening, after a farewell dinner at Bombur’s, the Company had gone together to the tombs to visit Thorin, Fili, and Kili. There had been much recounting of tales, especially by Nori and Bofur, the natural storytellers of the group, and the solemn halls beneath the mountain had echoed, for that night at least, with laughter rather than sorrow. But it was with heavy hearts that the families parted, for all of them thought of the others as kin.

A drumming began, and the dwarves who were leaving formed columns in the middle of the hall, their families giving way and moving toward the sides. The balconies surrounding the hall were also crammed with well-wishers. Balin, Oin, and Ori shared final parting words and embraces with the Company before heading to the front, where they would stand in places of honor.

Trumpets rang out, and all heads turned towards the platform above the golden doors as King Under the Mountain Dáin Ironfoot and his entourage appeared. Nori and Dwalin exchanged skeptical glances, for they two had never quite accepted Dáin as king, despite his valiance at the Battle of Five Armies. It was also Dáin who approved what they considered a risky undertaking, almost encouraging Balin seek Khazad-dûm, though Dwalin knew Balin had been uncomfortable at the Mountain for years now. After years of remembrance kept alive by stories and vengeance, the reality once they had finally arrived was crushing. If not for his brother and his friends, Balin thought he would have turned to stone then and there. Though he busied himself with the rebuilding and soon seemed to return to his usual humor, there was a part of him that wished they had never come back; that the cost of Thorin and the Princes was too great a price to pay for this charred and ruined empty hulk of rock whose halls reeked of dragon. 

King Dáin cleared his voice to speak. “’Ere we go,” muttered Nori to Dwalin, who snorted, crossing his arms. A glare from Dori discouraged further disparaging comments. 

“Dwarves of Erebor! Sons of Mahal! Today is a glorious day. Today, we will reclaim what is rightfully ours!”

Who’s ‘we’? thought Nori amid the cheers rising from the gathered dwarves. Dun see you strappin’ on armor an’ marchin’ off to Khazad-dûm. 

Knowing Dáin’s propensity for flowering speeches that he did not care particularly for, Nori tuned out the long-winded king’s words and amused himself doing what he did best: observing. 

There, a father proud of his sons, off to fight for ancient and sacred halls; and there, his sons unsure and nervous, but unwilling to disappoint their father. 

There, a warrior, scarred and proud, but leaving the mountain for he had nothing to hold him there; his brother slain in battle, his wife dead these many long years, and no children born before her passing. 

There, a young wife clutching a babe, trying to catch the eye of her husband, who was standing in the formation, ramrod straight, full of visions of glory, but losing sight of his own family. 

Nori frowned. He always did see too much. He turned his gaze to the front. 

There was Oin. Despite his curmudgeonly ways, or because of them, Nori always held high esteem for the apothecary, respecting a man who was dedicated to his craft. He smiled now to see the old doctor leaning on his staff, dozing off occasionally, apparently as entranced by Dáin’s monologuing as Nori was. 

Beside him in the center was Balin, bowing politely now to acknowledge some praise from the King. Though seemingly calm as ever, Nori could see Balin’s fists clenched tightly behind his back. It saddened Nori to see his friend as unhappy as he had been, and he hoped Balin would find whatever it was he was searching for. 

Off to the side, shy as ever, was Ori. Brave, brave Ori, who had run after him without a second thought, or even a second’s thought, when he realized Nori was sneaking off for perhaps the last time, 50 years ago. He had watched his baby brother grow into a warrior on that journey, and it was this quiet warrior who was leaving them now. 

King Dáin was finally coming to the end of his speech, and Nori dragged his attention back up to the balcony. 

“…drive the foul beasts out forevermore. May Mahal’s Forge light your way, may His Hammer guide your blows, may His Strength ensure your victory. Hail, Balin, Son of Fundin!”

The Company raised their fists and voices to the salute as the Mountain rang with the roaring of the dwarves. “HAIL!”

“Hail, the Brave!”

“HAIL!”

“Hail!”

“HAIL!”


	2. Patience, alright?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No word from the expedition yet...

The following few months were tense, with no word from the expedition. It was all Nori could do to keep from knocking Dori about the head with a cudgel when he really went off on a paranoia-fueled rant. As it were, he found the best thing to do in these instances was to sit down with a cup of tea, dump something stronger into it, massage the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache, and wait it out. When Dori would finally run out of breath and calm down, Nori would offer him a seat and the leftover tea, and patiently explain to him why every one of his points of worry had no merit. 

No, Ori has not been eaten by a warg, there hasn’t been a warg pack seen in that part of the Misty Mountains in almost forty years. Besides, he’s gotten very good with that slingshot of his, in case you hadn’t noticed.

No, Ori has not fallen off a cliff, why d’you think they had the party outfitted with safety harnesses? If those things can hold up in a mine collapse, I’m sure they can stop our skinny little brother from sliding to his messy death.

No, Ori has not frozen to death in the snow. If anyone can light a bonfire in a storm, it’s those pyromaniac Sons of Groin, and last I checked, the saner one is with him.

These discussions got old very quickly, and it was on one such day that Nori was saved. Head in hands, unable to watch his brother’s incessant pacing that often accompanied these rants any longer, Nori was seriously considering flinging himself off the balcony when the runner came. 

Hearing the entrance gong chime out, Nori practically ran for the door, opening it to admit a young dwarrow, who was taking in a deep breath. 

“Message for Lords Dori an’ Nori, Heroes of Erebor, sah! Message as follows: Lord Dwalin (Son of Fundin, Captain of the Golden Guard, Hero of Erebor) requests your presences at once or soonah, sah! Message ends.”

Wincing at the clarion tones, Nori thanked the runner, tipping him a gold piece, and speculated to himself as the lad sped off again that the boy could have a very successful career as a trumpet one day. 

Having heard the runner all the way from his rooms, Dori appeared at Nori’s side. “I suppose we had better go at once. Come along, Brother!” And with that, Dori was out the door, the picture of efficiency once again. 

Catching up, Nori and his brother made their way to Dwalin’s suite of rooms. 

Fifty years after the dragon’s defeat, there were still sections of the mountain being shored up, rebuilt, or carved anew, though most of the major work had been long done. The forges deep in the halls had been among the most badly damaged areas, Smaug apparently having been jealous of any fire to rival his own. Now, when one walked anywhere near those caverns, the massive crashing hammers swinging from the ceiling shook the very ground. 

Each member of the Company had been given their choice of living quarters. Balin and Dwalin both selected rooms near the royal halls, convenient for their positions in the new government; Balin as head advisor, and Dwalin as chief enforcer of the peace. Bifur and Bofur, having been miners in Ered Luin before the quest, decided that they had had enough of the air underground, and immigrated to the site of Dale, helping rebuild the once great city. They now had their own toyshoppe -very successful- with apartments above. Before leaving, however, they first helped Bombur move his family in from the Blue Mountains. He, his wife, and their small herd of children occupied a vast block of rooms near the royal kitchens. Dori, Nori, and Ori chose three neighboring suites that they vastly modified to suit them. All three suites had access to a series of large common rooms; the front portion of which they converted into a comfortable tea shoppe, where they ran a casual, but popular business. Having initially chosen the site for the merit of it being against the side of the mountain, the brothers had that wall knocked out, and a long balcony added, for having grown up without a stone roof over their heads, they, especially Nori, found it nice to be able to see the sky whenever they wished.

Arriving at Dwalin’s, the Brothers ‘Ri ran into Gloin, apparently having been summoned as well. 

“’Lo, Gloin! How’s that lad of yours’ training coming along?” Dori greeted.

“Fine, fine. I think he’s finally improving,” Gloin waved. “Either that or Dwalin’s letting him off easier these days.”

Chuckling and discussing the merits of swords versus axes, the friends entered the gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dori, chill. shooooosh.
> 
> Credit for Bifur and Bofur's toyshoppe (I also just like writing 'toyshoppe' as opposed to 'toyshop', sorry) goes entirely to renovek on Tumblr. I'm not sure if she has an AO3, but you should check out her fanfic, Finding Their Place: http://renovek.tumblr.com/search/finding+their+place  
> It's a lovely, relaxing read. 
> 
> I just love the idea of them having their own place in Dale, since it's not too far from the Mountain, actually.


	3. Letters from abroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, word from the expedition. And an unexpected visitor to the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I didn't know the unexpected visitor would be showing up until this morning XD

“There ye are! Took ye all bloody long enough, get in. Here, this is fer you an’ Dori,” Dwalin shoved a package, much wrapped in twine, into Nori’s chest. “An’ this ‘un’s fer you.” Gloin received the same treatment.

“Wot’s all this, then?” Nori asked, unwinding the string. Dori peered over his shoulder.

Dwalin merely crossed his arms over his wide chest and smiled. “Yull see.”

Dori gasped as Nori unwrapped a bundle of papers covered with unmistakable handwriting. On the other side of Dwalin, Gloin let out a deep laugh as he peered at pages filled with Oin’s careful, tightly spaced script.

Nori unfolded their bundle and began to read the letter within, holding it out so Dori could also see.

_Dear Brothers,_

_Hello! I hope everything has been well, and Dori has not become too anxious. Nori, his favorite tea is the one in the red tin on the top shelf. I forgot to tell you before I left, but a mug of that usually calms him down._

_The journey has been rather uneventful so far, not a single warg or goblin to be seen. Oin was grumbling about that fact earlier; he rankles he hasn’t been able to give anything “a proper thrashing” in quite a while._

_We passed through the edge of Lord Elrond’s territory a little while back. Balin and I visited with the scouts that greeted us. Nori, Kelisand knows about the carved tea set you nicked for Dori the last time we visited. I told you to just leave it._

_We’ll be starting into the Misty Mountains proper soon. Even now, they really do seem as cold as the song. It is a long way south to where we’re going, and I don’t know when I shall be able to write next. I’m leaving this letter with the elves, I hope it gets to you two before too long._

_Say hello to everyone for me! Take care, brothers. Dori, I got more than my fair share of salad from the elves, thank you, so don’t fret. Nori, give Kel back his tea set. Dori, you won’t mind, would you? It just sits there most of the time anyway._

_With greatest affection,_

_Ori_

Ducking a cuff to the back of the head from Dori, Nori unfolded the rest of the package. Tucked within the letter were a number of loose pages. Dori and Nori opened them and quickly turned to show them to their friends, for Ori had included illustrations of the journey. A quick sketch of sunlight shining off a swiftly flowing river; a view of a mountainside sunrise. Most precious however, were the drawings Ori had done of their brothers. Here was Oin, posing with a burning pinecone, a slightly maniacal grin on his face. Here was a sketch of Balin, gazing contemplatively at something in the distance. It looked like the sketch had been done in a candid moment, Nori thought. He is glad Balin seems more at peace. Dwalin takes the page carefully, relief and regret mixing on his face as he looks at his brother’s. “May I…keep this?”

“Of course,” Nori immediately tells him. Dori nods graciously. “I’m sure Ori meant for us to give them to you, in fact,” he adds, gesturing to Gloin to hang on to the portrait of Oin.

Dwalin dipped his head gratefully as Gloin rumbled a “thank you” and carefully refolded the paper, tucking it safely away.

“When did these come in, Dwalin?” Dori asked.

“Jus’ this mornin’!” Dwalin replied, all gruff ribbing once again. “D’ya think Ah’d wait te tell ye? It’s yer own fault fer getting’ ‘ere so slow!”

Nori and Gloin snickered at Dori’s indignation, and Dwalin joined them with a wide smile, adding, “An’ yull never guess who delivered them.”

His smile widened further at the puzzled looks on his friends’ faces. “Bilbo.”

“Cor!” Nori, Dori, and Gloin burst out with a frenzy of excited questions all at once.

Dwalin held up his hands as he laughed. “Aye, he came up this mornin’ escorted by an elf who looked very put-out over somethin’. The elf left after meetin’ wit Dain; he had some message from Lord Elrond. Anyway, Bilbo was hungry from the journey -that lad's always hungry, ha-, so he went off to Bombur’s. Ah expect they’re fussin’ over some new way to cook coneys. Oh, right, Bom said for us to come ‘round later so he could prepare.  Ah reckon he’s ready by now; wot would ye lads say te lunch?”

Sharing anecdotes from their brothers’ letters, the friends headed down the avenue to Bombur’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little reference to the flaming pinecone chucking scene there. I reckon Oin and Gloin, being the pyros of the group would have gotten a kick out of throwing fiery projectiles at ugly warg faces.


	4. A Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not fit for kings. Fit for Friends. Even better.
> 
> Food. So much food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could go on and on about the spread, but. I figured I'd control myself. Guys, I just really love food a lot ok XD I needed to put a food chapter in one of my stories, somewhere, anywhere. Thank XD

Arriving at the gate, the group found themselves greeted by three of Bombur’s children. The dwarrowlings immediately launched themselves at Dwalin in what they surely thought was a fearsome attack. Dwalin proceeded to gurgle and lurch about, feigning a fatal wound. “Oh, help! This is the end fer me, lads, save yerselves.”

“Natural’y!” mercilessly quipped Nori, laughing at his friend’s flailing even as Dori tried to ‘save’ him.

After a moment of letting the little ones revel in their victory, the other three adults plucked up a child each and proceeded into Bombur’s sprawling domain.

They greeted Bombur’s lovely wife Girdi in the entry hall, and returned her children; Girdi gently apologizing for their behavior, though the Company had made it clear ages ago they by no means minded being the playthings of Bombur’s brood when they visited, marking it down as being inevitable and welcome. At this point, Girdi was merely saying the words out of politeness. The children loved having seven other uncles outside of Bifur and Bofur.

Making their way to the kitchens, enticing smells wafted towards them, evidence of the magic surely happening. Being head of the royal culinary panel, Bombur was constantly experimenting and coming up with new recipes. He had even become proficient in incorporating tastes from different cultures, having to cater to emissaries visiting King Dain from different lands. When Nori went traveling, Bombur would impress upon him to bring back as many different exotic ingredients as he could. On more than one of his trips, one of Nori’s first stops back would be to Bombur’s to unload bottles of fragrant seasonings and spices, strings of dried fruits, and packets of cured meats. Not to mention tins of sweets for the dwarrowlings, much to their delight. For weeks afterwards, Nori would reign supreme as the favorite uncle. Until, of course, Bifur and Bofur visited with toys, or Ori with new colored waxes and inks for drawing, or any of the others with any number of small distractions.

As they got closer, snatches of conversation could be heard.

“…picked this up from the Men of the East; depending on what spirits you use, the dish will have a different flavor.” That was Bombur, enthusiasm in his voice at showing someone a new trick.

“Are you sure about this, old chap? Seems a mite bit much…” The listening dwarves’ faces lit up. There was that long-unheard voice that they had all grown so fond of.

“No, no, the alcohol burns away, you see?” Nori wrinkled his nose at this. Burning the alcohol away? What was the point then? Dwalin and Gloin seemed to share his views.

“Now watch closely…but not that closely! This is the tricky part…”

There was a _fwoosh_ , and tongues of flame could be seen licking the ceiling beyond the doorway. A startled yelp was heard, accompanied by Bombur’s rolling belly laugh.

“You’re quite all right, dear Hobbit! No harm done. Now taste this.”

The four rounded the corner cautiously, unsure whether to be expecting more sudden eruptions. Instead, there was Bombur, and a dear face none of them but Dwalin, and then only briefly, hadn’t seen in far too long.

“Bilbo!” Dori called, rushing forward to crush the delighted Hobbit in a hug. Of the present dwarves, Dori shared the most similar sensibilities with the comfort- and home-loving Halfling.

“Oh Dori! And Nori and Gloin! Hello again, Dwalin,” Surrounded by dwarves, Bilbo was buffeted around by friendly claps on the back as they expressed their enthusiasm at seeing him again. Even Nori’s last visit to the Shire was more than fifteen years ago.

“How have you been, Bilbo?” boomed Gloin. “Did ye have a fair journey?”

“I did, thank you, Gloin. It may well have been my last, so I wanted to make it one to remember.”

“Your last? Wot d’ye mean by that?” Nori asked, unsure whether to be concerned. “Surely nothing’s wrong. Why, ye haven’t aged a day…”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Bilbo quickly put up his hands to placate his friends’ worries, but not before Nori noticed him quickly snake a finger into his waistcoat pocket, as if to check something. “I just meant I am retiring. I’m older than I look, you know.”

“Let’s not all stand around in here, I’ve prepared food in the dining room. Go on, move, move!” Putting finishing touches on the flambéed dish, Bombur shooed the group out of the kitchen and into the dining –well, it was more of a hall then a mere room. The table was piled high with delicacies, and Girdi and the children were already gathered around it. The other dwarves and the Hobbit took their places, and conversation temporarily ground to a complete halt as they tucked into the truly impressive spread. Bombur had outdone himself; Dwalin wasn’t sure there was this much food at the state dinners he had attended.

Bombur had somehow acquired a whole wild boar, and it dominated the spread as the centerpiece. On either side of it were two roast geese. The rest of the table was covered by a wide variety of side dishes originating from all over Middle Earth: caramelized potatoes, onions, and mushrooms from the Shire, sun-dried fruits from the South, and the mysterious flambéed dish incorporated peppers, chopped pork, and what appeared to be long strands of boiled dough. Nori peered curiously at a tuber he was certain he had only seen growing in Dunland. Dessert was no less spectacular; there were fruit-flavored ices with sweetened cream, plates of honey- and syrup-soaked cakes, and delicate tartlets. It was all of it delicious.

After the feast, the adopted uncles helped corral the dwarrowlings and keep them preoccupied with stories, songs, tricks, and games while Bombur and Girdi put them one by one to bed. By the end of the ordeal, the uncles were nearly as tired out as the children. They headed back to the dining hall to relax and listen to Bilbo’s tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. That maaaay have been a variation on stir-fry that Bombur set on fire. 
> 
> My dad is a chef in Chinese restaurants, and I used to work in them as well, and let me tell you right now: sudden five-foot flame? Eh, no big. Pass the rice wine, let's do that again. 
> 
> Oh yes, and a small timeline note at this point. So, in the book, if I remember correctly, Bilbo leaves the Shire about...60 or so years before the main events in LOTR? (And he doesn't have the ring, checking his pocket is just a habit now) But that doesn't quite match up to when Balin and Co leave for Khazad-dûm as I have it here...I think? If I'm right (about being wrong) I've squished the times together a wee bit, sorry. Just kinda wanted to have our Mister Bilbo pay the lads a visit :)


	5. Dear Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some old friends catching up. And drunken burping. Ya know. Like ya do.

Long after the dinner was over, the Company gathered back around the table to pick at the remaining cakes while enjoying an evening pipe and listening to Bilbo’s tale. They laughed as he demonstrated the shock on his relatives’ faces at the startling way he left the Shire, and nodded knowingly as he good-naturedly complained about Gandalf’s mysterious ways, for even on this journey, far more relaxed from the last one they had all taken together, the wizard was forever flitting about at odd times, conducting whatever wizardly business he was ceasely doing. They raised cups of warm tea and mulled wine to Beorn, remembering his hospitality as Bilbo described his hearth where he had welcomed him that past winter on his journey east. Bilbo spoke of the House of Elrond where, he said, he planned to return to live out his days. He would still visit of course, he promised, knowing the dwarves still had misgivings concerning the Eldar race.

“Oh, and on my last day with the Elves before continuing here, Gandalf and I saw Balin, Oin, and Ori.”

Sleepy heads, lulled by wine and full bellies, all snapped up, alert once more. Questions flew thick and fast; Bilbo was hard-pressed to sort them straight before answering.

“Hold! Hold! Please, now. Yes, they all looked fine, hale and hearty. Young Ori seemed especially keyed up, he was going on about an expedition to the south? Balin mentioned a place called Kha-, er, Khaza-, oh, I never could get the sound right, but Gandalf said it was also known as Moria.”

“Yes,” Dori chimed in. “From back in Durin’s Day, that was the Elvish name for Khazad-dûm.”

“I see. Gandalf…did not look pleased when Balin said that’s where they were going,” Bilbo mused.

“An’ why would he?” Dwalin snarled. “This whole…Dain should never have suggested it to mah brother, then Balin wouldn’a gotten it intae his head to go chasing off after…it’s jus’ as mad as what we did. Ah should have gone. Ah should have gone too.” Drink and the late hour had begun to make the great warrior morose, and Nori put a supportive hand on his shoulder, saying nothing, but it was no secret he too had opposed the expedition. Something had always not sat right with him, but Ori had been so excited, he said nothing, keeping his nameless reservations to himself. After all, he had thought, one Dori is more than enough, Ori dun need another to whinge at him.

Nori remembered how he had been, how he still sometimes was, when the wanderlust hit. One moment, content and peaceful, and the next, filled with inexplicable longing for places he had never even seen or heard of. It could be maddening. So, it was it a smile he congratulated Ori with on that fateful day he told his brothers of his new quest, hiding the dread that secretly gripped his heart. For who was he to tell Ori he could not go where he wanted?

Refusing to let himself be drawn into the deepening mood, Nori wiped the glower from his face and threw in, “At least this time they have a full company at their back, not jus’ the like o’ you an’ me. By my reckoning, that’s far less mad then our lit’le jaunt. We were only saved because we ‘ad Bilbo ‘ere wiv us. Hail, Bilbo!”

“Hail!” Guffawing at the embarrassment on the Hobbit’s face, red now with more than just wine, the Company raised their cups and drank to his health.

With that, the mood lifted, and Bilbo joined in as the dwarves topped off their drinks. Bombur’s hall echoed once again with somewhat inebriated carousing: songs, belching, and sometimes both at once.

Gasping for breath, and wiping his eyes from laughing too hard at Nori’s latest attempt to burp out the chorus to a dwarven ballad, assisted by Gloin pounding on his back, Bilbo finally waved his arms in supplication. “Enough! Oh, please, enough, good dwarves! I beg your mercy!”

Getting out a last few chuckles, Dori composed himself. “Ho ho ho, yes. Right lads, it’s late, and poor Bilbo has traveled far today. We’ve kept him up long enough. Bilbo, have you a place to stay? You can kip up in Ori’s room while you’re here if you have no other arrangements.”

Bilbo blinked. “Oh. My. Accommodations had completely skipped my mind in all of this, if truth be told. Er, yes, I think I shall take you up on your kind offer, thank you ever much Dori!”

“Think nothing of it, good friend. Nori, get his things!”

The others laughed as Nori did not protest, for they knew he truly would not mind assisting Bilbo, but threw a childish face in his brother’s direction just for good measure.

Bilbo’s face reddened once again. “Oh. Erm. I…left my luggage with the gate guard when I arrived, actually. There was…rather a lot, and without a place to send it…”

“Ah. The storerooms are sure to be locked at this time of night. Er, quite early morning now, isn’t it? No matter, I’m sure Ori wouldn’t mind you borrowing an old nightshirt. You two were close in stature…” Dori squinted, trying to judge Bilbo’s height.

“I ken jus' break ye in…” Nori muttered.

Reactions slowed by the mulled wine, Nori failed to duck away in time as Dwalin cuffed him on the back of the head. “Ah do have the keys, ye know,” Dwalin growled.

“Point bein’?” Nori challenged without any fire, bringing grins to both their faces as the old friends recalled younger days.

“That is quite all right, thank you, Nori, Dwalin,” Bilbo put in. “We should all get some rest, and I fear we have imposed upon Bombur’s hospitality a bit too long.” He nodded towards their host, who had dropped into slumber while they had been talking, snoring gently with his hands folded over his belly.

Chuckling quietly, they all pushed back their chairs and headed for the entry hall. As if his excellent hosting skills sensed they needed to come to the fore once again, Bombur shook himself from sleep at their motions and hurried to catch up. “Leaving already? Thank you for coming, friends! I hope dinner was satisfactory.”

Beaming amid fervent confirmations that everything was incredible as always, Bombur walked them to the gate and waved as the Company went their separate ways for the evening; shuffling in perhaps not as even of lines as they would have normally.

“It has been wonderful to see you again, Bilbo, just wonderful. Are you staying long?” Dori asked, throwing an arm over Bilbo’s shoulder.

“I would like to, yes, it has been far too long since last I saw any of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“No, no, no imposition at all! Ori won’t be needing his rooms while he’s off on this quest, in any case. Do stay as long as you wish!”

“Aye, Bilbo, wot ‘e said. Nice of ye te surprise us. Ori didn’t mention seein’ ye in his letter, was ‘e in on it too, then?”

“Oh, so you did get them! Good, good. And haha no, I’m afraid I surprised him as much as I did you. He was going to entrust the letters to the elven guards, but when I mentioned I was coming here, he asked if I would bring them. Of course, Gandalf disappeared soon after, and the elves ended up escorting me, so it’s like he did entrust the letters to them after all, ho ho.”

“Old Greyhame. I wonder wot ‘e’s up to…”

“Meddling again, I’m sure,” Dori sniffed. “Well, here we are! Make yourself right at home, Bilbo. We’ll see you in the morning. Good night!”

“G’nigh’,” Nori added, clapping Bilbo once more on the shoulder as he passed.

“Good night! Thank you both once again.” Bowing, Bilbo entered Ori’s suite, and immediately stubbed his toes on a low chest. “Aow!”

Mortified, Dori instantly returned to his side, apologizing profusely for not providing a light, forgetting how Hobbit eyes are not suited to the darkness as dwarven eyes are.

Suppressing laughter at the Halfling’s obvious embarrassment and his brother’s fussing, Nori turned as if to enter his own rooms, but instead faded unseen into the dim corridor just beyond. He walked a few meters around a bend and stopped.

“Lurz.”

“Aye, boss,” whispered a shadow.

“I want te know wot is makin’ Tharkun so restless of late.”

“Aye, boss,” the shadow said again, and was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oo, intrigue. 
> 
> Psh, please, just because Nori's 'settled', d'you honestly think he's just going to let his entire carefully-built spy network just fall apart? Wot d'you think the first thing was he did after retaking the Mountain? Went back to Ered Luin and kicked their asses back into shape, that's what! Now it spans pretty much all of Middle Earth. I'm sure Dwalin still disapproves, but begrudgingly admits it's handy sometimes. There will be more on that later in another story, probably.


	6. Sightseeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets the full tour of Erebor and Dale.

Upon receiving word he was there, Bifur and Bofur immediately slapped a “Bound for Erebor, Back Soon” sign on their shop and left Dale to take up temporary residence with Bombur, surprising Bilbo at dinner one evening. Another feast was had, during which time Bofur took it upon himself to plot out the sights their Hobbit needed to see.

After the more perfunctory sites, the Company took him to the darkened vaults, a place no non-dwarrow had ever been before. He stood in silence before the tombs of his friends and did not resist as the tears fell freely down his face. Laying a hand on the cold stone of each, he whispered his greetings to them before rejoining his friends outside the doors, where they had gone to lend him some privacy. He smiled at them from behind wet eyes and bade them continue, there was still much to see.

During Bilbo’s stay, he had received the full tour of the restored Mountain, marveling at the high vaulted ceilings of the great halls, the sprawling metropolis that made up the heart of the Kingdom of the Dwarves, the power of the forges, and the fearless blacksmiths who stood impervious amidst the sparks as though they were made of stone themselves.

He explored the underground city and the caverns beneath lit by the naturally glowing lightstones sprouting from the rocks, some carved and polished to resemble strange flowers, or creatures, or faces. Though he dared not swim in the deep and cold underground lakes, he accompanied his friends when they took a trip down, preferring to sit on the shore and share a pot of tea with Dori and Bifur as Nori, Dwalin, and Bofur hooted and splashed about with Bombur’s children.

When Bifur and Bofur needed to return to Dale, they asked if Bilbo wanted to accompany them. Of course he said yes, and the three, joined by Nori, traveled back to the rebuilt city. While the cousins busied themselves with re-opening the shoppe, Nori led Bilbo to the town square and, making his excuses while glossing over mention of some business requiring his attention, told the Hobbit he should explore for a while, he’d find him again before too long.

Walking through the streets, Bilbo felt very much at home, despite the fact that most of the citizens were far too tall. He was entranced by the colorful banners that once again flew above the buildings, stuccoed in warm earthy shades. Enticing smells wafted on the air, leading Bilbo to street vendors selling pies and pastries, grilled vegetables and meats on skewers, sugary concoctions in delightful shapes, and even ices like the ones at Bombur’s. Bilbo tried to ascertain how they were kept frozen, but even his wiliest efforts were met with naught. He rested his feet by the edge of a fountain, munching on a savory pie, and nodding politely to passerby who curiously looked his way, Hobbits being rare outside of the Shire. Most of them nodded back with a smile. Bilbo felt content. He was happy Dale was back to its former glory, being little more than a burnt husk the last time he had passed though. As a fauntling, he had heard tales from the Tooks of the gem that was the city of Dale, and had dreamed of visiting one day. Despite his snack, his stomach suddenly gave an unsatisfied grumble. Squinting at the midday sun, Bilbo wondered where Nori had gone.

-

When he left Bilbo in the town square, Nori melted into the crowds, and almost imperceptivity jerked his head, signaling a dwarf standing nonchalantly by a booth to keep an eye on the Halfling. He continued on to a row of shops lining a busy thoroughfare and seeming to enter one, instead slipped _between_ them into a shaded alley. There was a dwarf leaning on the wall smoking who straightened when Nori approached.

“Boss.”

“Lurz. Wot word?”

“Not much, I’m afraid, the Grey Wizard is hard to pin down t’begin wiv, an’ it seems like he’s flittin’ around more’n usual these days. ‘E’s been seen around Isengard an’ Minas Tirith most recently, I’ll keep ye updated. Oh, and Kova says hullo.”

“Huh, that ol’ bugger’s still alive?” Nori chuckled, thinking fondly upon his irritable lieutenant back in Ered Luin. “Wot’s ‘e got t’say?”

“Again, nuffin’ much, but just a note mentioning there seem to be a lot of elves goin’ through the Grey Havens. Well, not droves of ‘em, ‘e says, but before there would only be one or two at a time, and now they’re comin’ in small groups. Didn’t know if it was worth mentioning, boss, but Kova reckoned ye’d want te know.”

“Right. Good lad, Lurz, keep an eye out,” flipping the young spy a small pouch, Nori went off to check certain other enterprises, meet some other people, gather a bit more news, all the while processing the information he’d received. It seemed there were many instances of, if not unrest, then unusual happenings like the elves’ migrations happening all over Middle Earth. Nori wasn’t sure what to make it of it all yet, but he didn’t have a good feeling. With a start, he realized it was well past midday, and went off in search of Bilbo. Coming up noiselessly beside the dwarf he’d assigned the Hobbit’s care to, he handed him a bag of beef and pork skewers for his trouble, knowing it was a favorite treat of his, and dismissing him with a nod of thanks, walked back into the light.

“Bilbo! There y’are, mate. ‘Ow was yer mornin’? I see ye’ve found the vendors all right.”

 “Yes! Here, have a pie, these are delicious. I hope it isn’t cold by now…it’s not? Oh good. And not to fret, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed exploring the city. A marvelous place, I’m glad we’ll be staying a little while. Er, not to say that Erebor is…”

Nori laughed at Bilbo’s sudden hesitation, the Hobbit knowing of the Dwarves’ propensity to be jealously prideful of their homes, “Hahaha, Bilbo, y’don’t need t’tell _me_ the satisfaction o’ feeling the sun on yer face instead o’ being cooped up in cold stone.”

“Of course, of course. Oh, I found this lovely tea stand, perhaps you know it?”

Getting to his feet, Bilbo joined Nori as the two friends wandered back into the city.

 -

It was evening by the time Nori led Bilbo back to the toy shoppe. Due to the darkening hour, business was slowing down, and the cousins were preparing to close up.

Bofur turned his head at the tinkle of the bells attached to the front door.

“Welc-, oh, it’s you two! Have a nice tour, Bilbo? Or did Nori abandon you to the winds?” Bofur chuckled as Nori good-naturedly shoved him on the way in. Bifur waved ‘hello’ from where he was locking up the till.

Before Bilbo could answer, Bofur’s stomach gave a grumble of protest at being neglected since lunch. “Oh. Sounds like dinnertime. There’s an inn around the corner, the Roasted Pig, it serves a fine, well, roasted pig. Shall we go?”

There were enthusiastic nods of agreement all around.

-

Bilbo stayed in Dale just under a fortnight, traveling back to Erebor with Nori after that time. Before leaving, he arranged for a large shipment of Bifur and Bofur’s toys to be sent back to the Shire with the next caravan west. He trusted Frodo would be able to distribute them out amongst the children, whose parents still told tales of ‘that strange Mister Bilbo’ who had gone on an adventure (an _adventure._ Whoever had heard of such a thing?). Ignoring the cousins’ protests, Bilbo had simply waited until they were distracted by customers to deposit a large sack of gold and another one of assorted pies into their rooms upstairs. Satisfied, he reappeared amongst the dwarves as if he had never been gone. _Ha, he’s still got it, t’crafty ol’codger_ , thought Nori, chewing on his pipe to hide his smile, being the only one to have noticed his absence.

During the lunch lull, Bifur and Bofur flipped the sign on the door, and the friends went down for a final meal at the Roasted Pig. Tying a hamper full of food to Nori's pack for the trek back to the Mountain, the cousins waved farewell from the city gates, promising to see Bilbo again before he left for Rivendell.

-

All told, Bilbo stayed with the Dwarves for a season, returning to Rivendell with a party of Woodland Elves at the beginning of summer. If possible, his farewell feast was even more extravagant than his welcome one. Waving back at the Company who sent him off with cries of “Safe journey, Bilbo! Call again soon! If you get too skinny from eating elf fare, come back and we’ll get you to the proper shape again!” Bilbo sighed. It had seemed far too short of a visit, but it’s not like Rivendell was on the other side of Middle Earth. Only half-way. Completely doable. And this time his memories of the Lonely Mountain were far superior to the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so this is just about the end of filler-ness. I guess it could be called 'the calm before the storm', but I wouldn't want to be as dramatic as all that. Just suffice to know that it's all going to be downhill from here...


	7. The Halls of Khazad-dûm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: Segments of Letters from Ori! 
> 
> ...accurate, but doesn't quite flow as well, I think

After Bilbo’s departure with the elves, the Dwarves received another bundle of letters from the expedition. It was mostly comprised of an official report compiled by Balin and Ori for King Dain, but there were short notes attached, and delivered to the families by messenger. Ori’s read:

_Dear Brothers,_

_This is the last night we are making camp outside. We storm the eastern gates tomorrow at dawn. There is the stench of orc on the air. Balin anticipates there will be a battle on the field of Dimrill Dale. Do not worry, Brothers! After so long at marching, our company is itching to let off some steam. As I write, Oin is stoking the fire and grinning that…grin of his. You know what I mean. Tomorrow I’ll just stay close to him, I think._

_I am not afraid. I will write again when we make camp within the halls. We are so close!_

_Til then, Brothers_

_Ori_

Upon reading, Dori became more and more agitated, and after the third read-through, finally grabbed Nori by the shirtfront and shook him in agitation.

“What - What if he’s dead?!  We haven’t heard anything in ages, and this is the first news back? A battle?! How many orcs were there? What did the document say? Where’s Dwalin, maybe he’s read it, he’d tell us, wouldn’t he? What if-!”

Nori, teeth rattling a bit, finally managed to get his brother to let him go with a sharp kick to the shins. “D-d-dori! S-st-stop! Augh, me ‘ead. Right, stop. ‘M sure Ori’s fine. If ‘e stuck by that mad old coot like ‘e said ‘e would, then the most ‘e would’ve ‘ad  t’worry about would be gettin’ whacked by that bloody iron staff hisself! If I could count the times Oin nearly took me ‘ead off inna fight when we was comin’ ‘ere…”

Leading Dori to a table, Nori pressed him firmly into a seat, and walking back to the counter, kept talking as he made a pot of Dori’s favorite tea from the red tin on the top shelf, his voice mellowing as he slipped back into the familiar tones of their childhood. “’M sure Dwalin would let us know right away if sumthing were amiss…” As he blathered meaninglessly on to distract Dori, he had a running mental monologue mostly consisting of … _How much of this should I put in? This much? This much looks good. Right. Water. Boiling…is that too hot? Isn’t it supposed to be just under a boil? Bugger all, it’s fine. AUGH OW THAT’S HOT don’tdropitdon’tdropit._ Hurrying to the table, he plunked the pot of tea in front of Dori and sat down again, wringing his singed digits. “An’ that’s why I’m sure nuthing ill has befallen Ori, alright? Now c’mon, have sum tea here.”

“You’re…you’re right, of course, of course…” Dori sipped at the hot tea and settled for just looking morose. This helped him hide the grimace resulting from the too hot, too strong tea Nori had just helpfully brewed. Ah, if there was one thing he was always fairly useless at, it was making a decent cuppa. Still, Dori was grateful for the effort.

Nori breathed a sigh of relief as Dori’s nerves finally seemed to settle. Truth be told, he had already known about the battle before the eastern gate by way of a raven. Korvin, an operative who had volunteered to go, had an affinity with the birds, and promised to send messages when he could. The last he heard had been that the Battle of Dimrill Dale had been in the Dwarves’ favor, and that they were going to press on deeper into the halls. As Korvin did not specifically mention any of the three members of the Company, Nori assumed Balin, Oin, and his brother had all survived. He did not know how they fared now, however…that last raven had been weeks ago.

-

Relief came with the summer storms for both the oppressive heat and the brothers’ worried minds. A single letter in Ori’s hand, but signed by all three. It was just a simple note reassuring their brothers that they had all survived, and that Khazad-dûm was once again in the rightful hands of the Dwarves. The news was forwarded to Dain, and there was much feasting and rejoicing in the halls of Erebor the following weeks.

After that, the correspondences came regularly.

Ori seemed to be utterly taken with the newly reclaimed kingdom. Most of his early letters were filled with awe and astonishment, straining even his vast vocabulary to describe:

_...and the Great Hall, brothers, oh it stretches on absolutely forever, you can’t see one end if you’re standing at the other, can you imagine the work, the engineering, that went into this? The ceiling is so tall we could only see it by firing a flaming arrow into the heights. One day, brothers, this hall will be lit again, and we shall feast where Durin himself once did! I cannot wait for you to join me…_

_…much of this place has been ruined by those foul orcs, but Balin and Oin have been speaking with the Masters who came with us, and are already planning repairs and reinforcements. We have uncovered the entrance to the mines; a group will be heading in tomorrow to see what they can clear out, but from what it looks like so far the quarries stretch impossibly far down. I wonder how deeply Durin truly delved…_

_…Brothers! You will not believe! The legends are true, we have found mithril in the mines! We had already recovered numerous relics made of the precious metal after cleaning out the old orc dens, but to have come upon the source itself is incredibly providential. It will take some work to get to the true repositories, but the shine seeping from the rock is unmistakable. Only the Arkenstone itself can compare…_

Occasionally Ori’s letters turned grim, and the true weight of the journey was evident in his words:

_...I helped Balin with a missive for King Dain today. He asked me to compile a list of the fallen for their families to know. The names went on and on. Pages, brothers. I cannot count the cost. So many of them were familiar to me, more than I had realized, so confused were the first few days. Each name pained me to write, as if committing it to paper made it final, made it real. I cannot think for how numb I am with hurt. I never thought I would feel this way again…_

_…in the dark. These halls are cold, brothers. It has been so long since a dwarf has walked them, sometimes it feels like we shouldn’t be here at all. Everywhere there is ruin, whether done by orcs or time. The air is so heavy in places. It feels like there are ghosts…_

_…going well, everyone has their tasks to do, but sometimes I cannot help but feel out of place. Balin has taken so much responsibility on his shoulders, I fear he will collapse under the weight. I try to help, but I think he does not want to burden me, despite all I say. Oin tries to help when he can too, but he has his hands full running the infirmary. So many were injured, but if it weren’t for him, there would be so many more lost. They are both doing so much for us, I cannot help but feel unworthy. What good can a mere scribe do here and now…_

Ever resilient, Ori inevitably would bounce back and regale his brothers with accounts of his explorings and the treasures recovered.

_…knocked away the rubble, and beyond, there was a room, miraculously untouched by the orcs or whatever other foul denizens occupied our halls before. Our eyes were stung by the sudden light, for there was a window cut high in the wall. It was by this light that I realized we had uncovered the Chamber of Mazarbul! Carved into the walls were runes depicting our history; stacked in niches in the stone were scrolls and books, recordings of time! In one of these I discovered a tome, mostly empty; in it, Balin has bade me record our journey so far…_

_…also Durin’s Axe itself! I could not believe it, but the markings are unmistakable. I can hardly lift it, much less imagine wielding it in battle. And the craftsmanship, Brothers, it is like nothing I have ever seen. We’ve hung it in the Chamber of Mazarbul where Balin has taken up court. It is suspended from mithril chains so strong and fine you can hardly see they are there, and is illuminated by the light from the high window. I may or may not have had a hand in deciding the final placement. I will show you when you come! For now, I hope you will be content with the attached illustration…_

Though the correspondences were not as often as Dori would have liked, he and the other members of the Company were reassured by the regular news; their hearts put to rest about the fate and fortunes of their absent friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And everything was all ok! :D
> 
> For a time. We all know how this story goes, however... :(


	8. One Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting itchy feet again, Nori?

But after five years, the letters stopped coming.

Nori could feel something was not right. If he were honest with himself, he would have admitted things hadn’t felt right in quite some time.

Nori’s spies had been reporting increasingly troubling news: rumbles of armies moving with mysterious purpose in the East; feelings of unease amongst the Free Peoples of the West; rumors of ancient evils stirring in the South, with agents in the city of Minas Tirith describing a darkening in the skies over the forsaken realm of Mordor.

After many meetings in shadowed passageways with his lieutenants, Nori’s head spun trying to make meaning of all their reports, and settled for just sorting out the information that would be of use to Dwalin in quelling the packs of orcs and wargs growing ever bolder by the day. They disturbingly seemed to be moving with a greater and darker intent then to merely raid, riding down from the mountains to harass the edges of the kingdom, not really doing much damage, but almost as if they were…assessing.

And through all this, Nori couldn’t shake the one fact that stood out in his mind. It wasn’t just Ori’s letters that had stopped, all communication from Khazad-dûm had ceased, including Korvin’s ravens.

The turning point happened one night just before sunrise. Caught in the throes of a nightmare such as he hadn’t had since he was a child, Nori writhed and shook as he fought off the demons in his mind. Waking upon sharp impact with the carved stone of the headboard, he sat up, tangled in fear-soaked sheets, and tried to catch his breath. This was proving difficult as he was having a hard time believing he hadn’t been stabbed; his side felt icy and searing hot at the same time. Running his hand over the spot again and again, he found nothing but old scars, and forcing himself to focus, regained control. Freeing himself from the sheets, he threw on a shirt, tightened the knot on his old trousers, and started to walk. Pacing restlessly through the passageways of their family halls, especially along the long balcony, he could not shake the cold that gripped his spine. This feeling…it wasn’t something he’d be content to have others check for him. He needed to leave the Mountain. He needed to know…

Dori had been awoken early by a feeling of inexplicable chill, and thought to walk it off along the balcony. Nori had gotten there first. Dori stood quietly for a moment, watching his brother intensely pacing, occasionally craning his neck to the south and west, as if searching the sky for something. As he leaned on the doorway, Dori took the chance while Nori hadn’t yet noticed him to look, really _look_ at his brother, something he realized he hadn’t done in quite a long time, since Nori seemed to have grown out of his wandering ways, and Dori felt maybe he needn’t worry over him so much anymore. Nori’s hair and beard, having always been his greatest points of vanity, flowed loose and long down his back and against his chest, stirring gently in the breeze created by his movement. The air was otherwise thick and still, unusual for how high they were up the Mountain. Dori saw that sections of the auburn mane had become streaked with grey, something Nori must have taken pains to hide, for it wasn’t noticeable when his hair was done up. Though he wasn’t quite limping, Dori noticed he favored his right leg slightly, a souvenir from that terrible last battle. All of them bore scars from that fateful day. When he was out- meeting with friends, running errands, or any of the innumerable mysterious things he still got up to- Nori still seemed hale and hearty, despite his, and all of their, advancing years. He was always the last to tire, the last to stop drinking, stop laughing, stop telling tales, but now, in this private moment, he looked tired, weary, bent. Dori wondered what secrets he kept, for it was no secret itself that he still ran the Night Watch for the Mountain, a much more extensive operation than his Untouchable crew from their days in Ered Luin.

On his next pass, Nori noticed Dori’s presence, stiffened, then relaxed again as he realized who he was.

“Dori,” he said, “Wot are you doin’ up so early?”

“I could ask you the same, Brother,” Dori replied, stepping forward. The sun was just beginning to warm the Mountain. “What troubles you?”

“Wot? N-nuffin’. A dwarf ken take a walk on ‘is own damn balcony if it suits ‘im,” Nori snapped, a little too defensively. He took a breath to compose himself. “Er, sorry. Just…just feelin’ a little antsy this morn’, is all. Thought I’d take a walk…thinkin’ I might take a longer one soon…”

“You’re not planning on going roaming again, are you? I thought those days were behind you. You’re not as young as you once were, I hope you know! The world is different now from our day, why, I remember when you could walk from here to the Mirkwood without running into a single-”

“Yes, I’m aware, Dori, I was there too,” Nori said irritably. “Ye do realize I ken still take the tail off a cave lizard in minimal light at fifty paces, don’t ye?” He made a swift movement pantomiming a knife throw to demonstrate his point. Turning to continue walking, he glanced once more at the southern sky.

“I know.”

Looking back in surprise at his brother’s sudden change in tone, Nori looked back to see Dori leaning on the edge of the balcony, eyes solemnly downcast, his loosely braided hair, now more white than silver, covering his wearily stooped shoulders.

“Hey-” Nori started hesitantly coming closer.

“I know you can take care of yourself. You’ve been proving that to me all your life. But the world _is_ changing. Dark times are coming. Do you not find all these raids of late strange? Surely you must know more than I from all those spies of yours. We must heed the pooorrrtents,” Dori rolled his voice to mimic his old friend Oin’s, eliciting a bemused smirk from his brother. “Nori,” he continued, serious once more, “Please. Please listen to me jus’ this once, and do not go.”

Nori closed the distance between them, and turned Dori to face him, laying his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “C’mon Dor’, ye know I’ve always been ‘opeless at mindin’ ya,” Nori began with a grin, hoping receive one in return, or at least an eyeroll, but Dori’s face remained still and sad. “Alright. Look,” he said, smile dropping from his face, “I…I really do need to go, Dori. I must. But I promise you, Brother, this will be the last time. I won’t go wanderin’ again after this, I swear it. One last time, Dori.”

Dori stood silently a moment, then heaved a great sigh, knowing there was nothing he could do. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. If you must. If you swear. I’ll be watching for your return then. As I always have.” Reaching up to Nori’s neck, Dori pressed their foreheads together briefly, sealing the promise.

Smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging manner, Nori let go of Dori to get to packing, but paused before the door to his rooms when he heard his brother speaking again.

With his back to Nori, Dori stood watching the sun rise over the valley. “I never understood why you couldn’t just be happy with us. Why you always had to leave. Ori never understood either. Were we- was I so unbearable?”

Nori’s eyes opened wide with shock. Before he could sputter out something, anything, Dori had already returned to his rooms, sliding the door shut behind him.

Nori leaned, dumbstruck, against his own entryway for a moment, thinking about what he would have said if Dori had stayed. He didn’t know, because it was something he couldn’t even really explain to himself. “I’ll…just go pack then…” he said lamely to the empty air before turning back inside, heart heavy with helpless shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. So apparently I was feeling morose today when I edited and wrote the last bit of this chapter o.O


	9. Cautions and Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone seems to be convinced Nori is going to meet with a terrible fate on this journey, except for Nori. 
> 
> *laughs nervously*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ended up being a bit longer than the previous chapters, but I really didn't want to split it up into a million short ones...

A few hours later, when he was sure he had everything he needed, Nori went in search of Dori to let him know he was going. He entered the tea shop through his entrance, but Dori was not behind the counter, and indeed the doors were still locked, Ori’s cheerfully painted “Open” sign unflipped. Nori even saw the shadow of a patron through the frosted glass pause before the door, raise a hand to knock gingerly, and walk away again with a shrug when nothing happened. Going back, he approached his brother’s entryway and found that closed as well. Knocking on it, and shouting when nothing came of that, Nori waited impatiently for Dori to let him in. The portal remained resolutely shut. Nori once thought he heard shuffling behind it, and the clink of a hand touching a lock, but it was silent again so quickly that he wasn’t sure if he imagined it. Sighing deeply, he knew he couldn’t wait much longer; there were still a few last errands he needed to run, and he wanted to leave while he still had the sun, hoping to reach Dale by nightfall.

“Dori!” he shouted one more time, knowing it probably wouldn’t do any good, but wanting his brother to hear him out all the same. “’m leavin’ now! I ‘eard wot ye said before; I’ll be careful, and I promise again this is the last time. I…I, uh…oh. You know.” Grimacing at how bad he still was with sentiment, and giving the door a final pound with his fist, Nori hefted his pack onto his shoulder and was about to turn away when the stone slid open and Dori grabbed his arm, pulling him in for a hug that crushed the breath from his body.

“I love you, too, little brother. Stay safe. Come back in one piece. Come back soon.” Dori released him, sniffed gruffly, and closed the door again before Nori could even get his breath back.

Glad that that went better than he expected, Nori decided to stop by Gloin’s on the way to see Bombur about some rations.

-

As Nori neared Gloin’s impressively wrought gateway, he was hailed by a young dwarf approaching from the direction of the forges whose wild red hair and beard were being kept barely under control by leather straps. A soot-streaked apron was tucked under his arm.

“Uncle Nori! How good tae see ya, sir! Are ye lookin’ for Father?”

“Good t’see you too, Gimli,” Nori answered, giving his de facto nephew a fond smile. “Aye, as a matter’a point, I _was_ lookin’ for that old coot, got some fings t’talk t’im about. Say, but ‘ow’s yer smithin’ ‘pprenticeship goin’, lad?”

Chatting, the two entered the house of Gloin; Gimli heading for the baths after helpfully suggesting to Nori where he might be able to find Gloin at this hour.

Nori found his friend in the counting rooms, carefully analyzing statements against the gold coins stacked on the table in front of him. Feeling a familiar itch in his fingers, Nori stuffed his hands firmly into his pockets and cleared his throat.

Gloin looked up in surprise, polished crystal monocle popping from his eye.

“Nori! What brings ye by? Here, sit, sit. And what are ye doin’ wit’ that ratty old thing?” Gloin ran a disapproving gaze over Nori’s much-repaired, weather-beaten, trusty traveling pack as Nori leaned it up against the desk before taking a seat.

“Oy, no need fer that, mate, this ‘ratty old thing’ ‘as served me well o’er the years, I’ll ‘ave ye know,” Nori answered good-naturedly, giving the faithful thing a fond pat. “Lissen, mate. I’m goin’ on…a little walk. ‘M not…sure how long it’ll take, sos I’d like t’settle a few fings afore I go…”

One of Gloin’s eyebrows rose in mild confusion and concern but he kept silent as Nori went through what should be done with his various accounts during his absence, occasionally scribbling down a note or two.

As they talked, Nori’s fingers, entirely of their own accord, of course, slipped a coin off the table and began flipping it idly over his knuckles. Gloin couldn’t help but be distracted at the danger of his careful count being altered, and after noticing his friend’s eye continuously flicking to the coin, Nori chuckled and finally pushed it back into its correct pile in lieu of Gloin’s obvious concern for its safety.

“That should about do it, I reckon. Right, fanks again mate, I’ll swing by when I’m back.” Smiling and dipping his head in appreciation, Nori got up and swung his pack over his shoulder, reaching over the table with his other hand.

They shook, but when Nori turned to leave, he found his arm still gripped firmly.

“And you will come back. Won’t ya.” Gloin, serious at his best of times, was pinning Nori with a steel-eyed gaze. “Don’ do anythin’ stupid, Nori. Yer no fool, but sometimes ye are a bloody idiot.”

“Heh,” Nori was trying to keep up his customary grin while his arm was being slowly crushed. “Don’t I know it. Aye, worry not, I’ll be back and pinchin’ yer gold again afore ye know it. Now, c’mon, mate, I’ve got’a go. Yer startin’ t’sound like Dori.”

That did it, and Gloin released his friend, giving a last firm nod. Returning it, Nori had just reached the threshold when Gloin spoke up one more time.

“And I’ll be havin’ that five-piece back now, thank you.”

Laughing, Nori flipped the coin back over his shoulder, imagining perfectly Gloin’s rueful but indulgent smile as the piece landed safely in his palm.

-

Next stop was Bombur’s for travel rations.

“You’re leaving for you don’t know how long and you didn’t think to let me know until the VERY DAY of your departure?! This is the last time Nori! Every time, every TIME man, you do this to me! How am I supposed to prepare a proper spread when you give me MERE MOMENTS to throw it together! And THROW it together I will, don’t you fear sir! EVERY. TIME…”

Holding his hands out in what he hoped was a placating manner against Bombur’s extreme indignation, Nori shrank back from his glares and the wildly swinging ladle being used to illustrate points of particular frustration as the furious cook pushed his way past towards the kitchens to find non-perishables, angrily muttering things about appropriate dietary balance and nutrition… While normally one of the more mild-mannered of the Company, the one thing guaranteed to set Bombur off in a rage was not being given enough warning to prepare food of any kind properly. As Nori could be generously described as “impulsive”, this detail was the source of one hundred percent of the friction that grated in their otherwise smooth and stout friendship.

Knowing Bombur’s ire would fade presently, Nori nonetheless made himself scarce and was idly polishing one of his blades in one of the common rooms when he heard the pat of small dwarf feet against the stone floor. He looked up to see Bombur’s youngest child, a precocious lass named Gilly. She came up to rest her hands on his knee, peering curiously at what he was doing.

“Nuncle No’ee? What’s dat?”

“Wot, this ol’ fing? Nuffin’, nuffin’, heh,” Nori quickly tucked the sharp object away before Gilly’s curious fingers could find it. She held her arms out to be lifted up. As he settled her on his knee, Gilly fell as she always did to fiddling with his beard plaits.

“Are you going away, Nuncle No’ee? Da’s yellin’ ‘bout you in th’kitchen. I dun wan’you to go ‘way!” Suddenly anxious, Gilly inadvertently gave a hard tug on Nori’s beard, forcing him to look into her eyes, swiftly welling up with tears.

“’M not! ‘M not, me darlin’. Well, I am…but not for long! Promise!" Nori quickly assured the girl after she looked fit to burst into tears. “It’s just a little walk, little one, really. Like I used to, eh? And I’d bring ye an’ yer bruvvers an’ sisters presents? Tell you wot, this time when I come back, I’ll bring ye…a wee bow! Aye, one just yer size, would’ya like that?”

Gilly sniffed as he wiped the tears from her face with a thumb, and nodded shyly.

“Wonderful! Now, cheer up, eh, let’s ‘ave a smile. Say, did I ever tell ye about a lad I once knew? He would’a been yer nuncle too, ye know, if ‘e ‘adn’t…Anyway, he was a dab ‘and wiv a bow, ‘e was…”

Nori spent the next hour while waiting for Bombur regaling Gilly with stories of Fili and Kili’s antics on their Adventure. When Girdi finally came to find Nori, Gilly gave him a final hug and peck on the cheek before surprising her mother by running off, whooping about warg-hunting. Raising an eyebrow and smiling at the blushing former thief as he stood, Girdi handed him a bag stuffed with nutritious bread based on the elvish lembas recipe, and dried meats and fruits.

“Bombur asked me to bring this to you; he’s just heard the king is receiving an emissary from Rivendell, and, well, you know how he gets.” The two shared a chuckle.

“He also asked if you would keep an eye out for any of these ingredients, should you run across them,” Girdi tucked a hastily scribbled list into the bag. “And please, do be careful, Nori. I expect to hear why my youngest is now dead-set on hunting wargs when you get back.”

“I’ll tell ye all about it,” Nori promised, tying the bag onto his pack, and smiling his thanks. “Tell Bom’ I’ll see wot I ken do about his list!”

Waving farewell, Nori set out for his last stop before leaving the Mountain.

-

“’Lo, mate.”

Dwalin looked up from his paperwork calmly, trying to hide how startled he was by Nori’s sudden presence in his office at the Garrison. Even after all these years, that damnable thief could be silent as death when he wished. He would have had to sneak by at least half a company of dwarves, trained military all, to have made it in there without Dwalin being alerted one way or another. And with that cumbersome old thing on his back too…

“Ah. Nori. Do come in. Make yerself at home, why don’ ye?”

“Dun mind if I do,” smirking with his small triumph, Nori walked in and settled himself in a chair, tipping it back, and propping his boots on Dwalin’s desk.

Not caring, and indeed grateful for the break, Dwalin leaned back and did the same.

“How goes then? Anythin’ new from yer little birds?”

“Nay, nuffin’ new. Same old strangeness. ‘M actually jus’ ‘ere t’tell ya…well, I’ll be goin’ off fer a little while. Lurtz will drop in reports from time t’time ‘til I get back.”

 “Where you going?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular, ye know ‘ow it goes.”

“You’re lying.”

“Wh-wot? No...I wouldn’t lie t’ye, me ol’matey.”

Outside his brothers, Nori had known Dwalin longer than anyone else in the Company. Though starting out on opposite sides of the law and clashing often, the quest to reclaim Erebor had brought them arguably as close as brothers. These two were the living example of the saying: “Under different circumstances, mortal enemies would make the best of friends.”

But the relationship went both ways, and Dwalin was wise to all of Nori’s tricks by now. Well, most of them, anyway; but especially knowing when he was being lied to.

“Yer lying again. What are ye planning, Nori?”

“N-nuffin’! Alrigh’, alrigh’, stop glarin’, yer face’ll stick like that. Ah, but it already did-!”

Laughing, Nori ducked as Dwalin threw a paper wad at his head. Still snickering, he held up his hands in mock submission as Dwalin prepared for another throw. “Alrigh’, I said! Haha. Honestly though, Dwalin, I don’t have a…plan, as such. More just a feeling. I dun know. There’s…there’s just somefin’ I ‘ave t’see.”

Dwalin watched his friend’s mischievous face drop away, and a curiously somber one take its place. “D’ye want company?” he asked quietly.

Nori brought his gaze back to wherever his thoughts had taken it, and stared at Dwalin for a moment before breaking into a grin again. “Wot? No, that’s alrigh’, mate, fanks. Ye’d jus’ slow me down, any’ow, big bugger like you, hahaha.”

Dwalin’s glare returned, and he leaned back in his chair again, sulky expression on his face. “G’on then. Ah was jus’ tryin’ tae-”

“I know, I was jokin’, ya lug!” Nori leaned forward and swatted Dwalin’s boots off his own desk, bringing the warrior back down with a thud. “No, no, this…this is just somefin’ I ‘ave t’do meself. One last good roam. But fanks, mate. Fanks all the same.”

Crookedly grinning at each other, the friends clasped arms over the table and shook. Coming around, Dwalin helped Nori shrug on the traveling pack, making sure all the straps were tightly secured. Clapping him on the back, Dwalin walked him to the gate, the two chatting casually as they passed by ranks of dwarves, all of whom gave the two respectful bows, and not a few of whom wondered when and how the Spymaster of Erebor had gotten in. Upon further thought, they realized it was better not to question these things.

Coming to the gate, Dwalin’s arm on Nori’s shoulder stopped the thief from going further.

“Be wary. Dun roam so far Ah cannae send help fer ye if ye need it.”

“By Mahal, everyone I’ve seen today sounds like Dori! If I didn’t know better, I’d think ‘e ‘ad finally achieved mastery of disguises, or somefin’. Relax, Dwalin, ye know me, nuffin’ ‘olds me fer long.” With a wink, Nori reminded Dwalin of the many times he had returned to an empty cell that previously held a certain thief and vagabond.

Growling, Dwalin was not amused, and in fact tightened his grip on Nori’s shoulder, causing him to wince. “Ah mean it.”

“So do I,” Nori said, shrugging out of Dwalin’s grip when it became too painful. “I’ll be careful, I’m always careful. I jus’ need t’know…Everythin’s fine, Dwalin. I’ll report in when I’m back, sah!”

Throwing up a mock salute, Nori accompanied it with a grin, hoping to reassure his friend enough to get him off his back. “Everythin’s fine,” he said again.

Not convinced, but knowing there was no stopping him, Dwalin sighed, and bumped foreheads with Nori, perhaps slightly harder than he’d intended, for he saw Nori rubbing his head after waving a final farewell, strolling out towards the main doors to begin his journey.

As he watched Nori’s retreating back, Dwalin’s heavy brows creased, and he muttered a single word under his breath.

“Liar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a long time to write, but I hope I managed to convey the different kinds of relationships Nori has with his friends, which is what this story started as: an experiment in character relations XD And then it grew into a monster o.O Halp.
> 
> Also, Nori's accent kind of ended up being especially thick in this chapter, no idea why o.O Sorry if it's hard to read...
> 
> And the quote in there about enemies being friends under different circumstances...I'm pretty sure I poached and paraphrased that from somewhere, but it's a common enough trope, eh.


	10. A Last Night Among Friends

On his way out of Erebor, Nori stopped by a certain alcove under the pretense of giving his pack a final looking over, and certain words were muttered. A whisper of affirmation, and the light rush of wind from a shadow moving away let Nori know that the word would be soon spread to those that needed to know, and he could leave the network in the hands of his trusted lieutenants. _That Lurtz is turning out to have great potential_ , he thought with something akin to fondness.

A final look around at the grand entrance hall, and he was on his way.

Exiting the Mountain, Nori took in the surrounding valley. From this vantage point, he could see all the way across to the city of Dale, but he knew it would take him the rest of the day to make the trek. He by no means minded.

 _Ah_ , he thought, _this is…good._

As he walked, he found himself to be happier and more content than he had been in longer than he realized. Temporarily freed from the responsibility of running the largest intelligence-gathering network Middle Earth had ever seen (or not seen, as the case may be), with the open road in front of him, virtually no limit to where he could go, Nori’s heart lightened and lightened until it could fair burst out of his chest. No one he had ever met, except for fellow wanderers, had ever been able to understand this feeling. Everyone finds freedom in different ways, and this was his.

He was brought back to earth with the recollection of what his mission was. One way or another, he would learn the fate of Khazad-dûm…and the dwarves therein.

-

Night was falling when Nori passed through the city gates. Around the square, street vendors were packing up their wares.

Nori weaved his way through the streets and alleyways until he reach a familiar shoppe, cheerfully lit despite the darkening hour.

The small silver bell above the door chimed merrily as Nori entered, immediately stopping short to avoid a small stampede of children, both dwarrowlings and Men, chasing after a mechanical bird seemingly flying on its own power through the air. Nori’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as he took in the scene.

It was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. At the center was Bifur, minding the coin box, counting money and distributing change with practiced ease, nodding and signing simple _thank you’s_ to the many satisfied customers. Bounding around the edges was Bofur, natural charm practically glowing as he cheerfully helped patrons, answering questions or retrieving merchandise. The children all loved him, floating around his knees like an energetic cloud of flailing limbs and gape-toothed grins of delight from the wonders surrounding them.

And what wonders there were. Besides the mechanical bird, there were colorfully painted kites of almost every creature imaginable hanging from the ceiling; dragons battling with gryphons and winged pigs for space. The shelves surrounding the large shop floor were stuffed with toys of every shape, size, color, and function that could be dreamed. There were stuffed animals small enough to be carried in a pocket to ones large enough to sleep on; rows and rows of tin and wooden soldiers from every race in Middle Earth; even kits with separate pieces that could be locked together however one pleased to form shapes and figures limited only by imagination.

The real treasures could be found in the open space in the center, however. There were sturdily carved creatures that could be wound up and ridden upon, powered by intricate mechanisms within the body; miniature castles that could be stacked together and climbed through; a full armory of wooden weapons and battle gear, skillfully painted to look like real metal.

Nori navigated his way through the finally thinning crowds to Bifur’s side. Bifur signed out a surprised greeting while conducting a few last sales. Bofur joined them presently and threw an arm around Nori’s shoulders, delighted to see him.

“What a surprise tae see ya, Nori! Ye shouldae sent a raven, we couldae planned something!”

“No worries, mate, it was somefin’ of a spontaneous decision,” Nori said with a broad smile.

“It always is wit’ you, isn’t it?” Bofur laughed. “Op, ‘scuse me, mate.”

Nori laid down his pack behind the counter and chatted with Bifur while Bofur saw the last of their customers through the door, waving cheerfully and wishing them safe travels.

“So, Nori, what brings ye about?” Bofur said, rejoining his cousin and their guest.

“Well, I er. Felt like goin’ fer a roam, I suppose. Been feelin’ a bit cooped up lately, thought I’d get out an’ stretch me legs,” Nori said disarmingly.

“Aren’t ye gettin’ a bit old for that roamin’ business?” Bofur asked with a cheeky grin.

“Oy, dun you get t’soundin’ like Dori too! Everyone I saw when I was leavin’, I’m tellin’ you…”

Laughing, the three friends closed up the shop and headed around the corner to the famous Roasted Pig. It’d been far too long since they’d had a pint together.

-

“Cor’, that was amazin’. I’ll never eat again.”

“Don’t let me brother hear ya say that, mate. You’ll break his poor, wee heart.”

Bifur, Bofur, and Nori sat back from the table where they had just enjoyed the house specialty: roasted pork hock, with its delicately crispy skin and tender meat marinating in its own juices.

Bifur let out a belch of utter contentment and reached for his tankard full of sweet, golden mead; a perfect complement to the ham.

Following his example, Nori and Bofur did the same, and the three fell to quietly and happily sipping their drinks.

“So, where ya plannin’ on headin’ off tae?” Bofur put his mostly-drained mug down with a plunk.

“Dun know, really,” Nori lied, still sipping at his own.

_“Not planning on going south, are you?”_

“Why d’ye ask, Bif’?” Nori said, perhaps a touch too quickly.

 _“Hearing rumors of trouble down there. Tremors in the Misty Mountains. You might know better than I.”_ Bifur shrugged.

“Aye, he’s right, Nor’,” Bofur chimed in. “Travelers coming through have said they’ve been encountering strange things crossing over the range. Stone giants like we’ve seen, and stranger. Some old dwarves from Ered Luin stayed in this inn jus’ last week, was it, Bif’? They said they could feel shaking and stirring in the stone as they passed. Evil things, they said.”

“Heh, jus’ the mutterings of superstitious old men,” Nori chuckled nervously. “They sound like Oin seeing signs in _everythin’_ , you remember? Och, laddie, yer mornin’ porridge tells meh yer goin’ tae be set upon by a rabid horde of squirrels later today, avoid trees.”

Nori’s horrible impression of Oin, wide-eyed with hands waving mystical sigils in the air set the friends to guffawing, nearly spilling their drinks. They had calmed slightly by the time the next round had arrived.

“Besides,” Nori continued when they had gotten their breath back, “I’m not plannin’ on headin’ down that way, in any case. Not much t’see that I ‘aven’t already seen…”

Satisfied with his answer, the friends fell to trading news about their friends and general goings-on for a while longer before heading back to the shop. Bofur pulled a cot out and set it up in one corner of the shop, apologizing for the lack of space upstairs while Nori apologized for not giving advance notice, and thanking the cousins very much all the same. Goodnights said, Bifur and Bofur headed up the stairs to their rooms.

Nori settled into the cot, breathing in the pleasant smell of the fresh sawdust and straw it was stuffed with, and thinking of the journey ahead of him. He shook his head to clear the thoughts darkening his mind, and tried to just enjoy the memories of this last day among friends. It would be a while before he would see any of them again, he knew, despite everything he had told them, and he wanted to make it last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the journey to Khazad-dûm begins.


	11. The Journey South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori makes his way to Moria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short, I do apologize, the next few chapters will be like this too. Editing has been part of the long delay since the last chapter, sorry again, dear readers. 
> 
> This is about the two-thirds point, though, I just realized last night. This has turned out way longer than I originally anticipated, and I do thank you for sticking around! As always, any comments or critiques are welcome :) Thank you for reading!

The following morning dawned bright and clear, and Nori breakfasted with the cousins before making his farewells. Exchanging embraces, Bifur and Bofur waved Nori off from the door of the shop, calling out wishes for good travels; Nori promising to drop back in on his return.

“You better!”

Nori laughed at Bofur’s last shout before he turned the corner at the end of their street.

Wanting to stall no longer, Nori soon exited the western gates of Dale and headed for the expanse of trees he could see in the distance. Now the real journey would begin.

-

Reaching the Mirkwood before long, Nori was reasonably sure he could get safe passage through the forest, but kept his knives close to hand just the same. This was still the only place he had been in Middle Earth he had no desire to linger. There was a pervading rankness that seemed to get worse every time he set foot in the boundaries. It had been a long time since he had heard it called the Greenwood.

Soon enough, an elven patrol found him and after a few tense moments of him explaining who he was, they led him deeper in on safe paths. He spent the night in one of their tree camps and found the experience strangely enjoyable. The breeze high in the canopy was fresh and clean, carrying none of the odors that sometimes manifested when they were passing through certain areas, and the security the height they were from the ground provided against potential dangers gave Nori an unexpected sense of safety and comfort. He fell asleep peacefully, rocked in his hammock by the breeze, with the stars peeking through the leaves above him.

When he awoke, the elven patrol was gone, replaced by another. Every night for the next few days this routine continued. He traveled with a new group of elves each day-some more friendly than others, and some less so- through the forest, and by nightfall of the fifth day had reached the western boundary. Without so much as a word, the latest troop of elves melted back into the trees and were gone, leaving Nori alone on the Old Forest Road.

Muttering darkly about the famous hospitality of Mirkwood, Nori trudged off to find a place to shelter for the night.

Drawing his traveling cloak over himself and his pack, and covering all of it with leaves, he settled in between two thick tree roots, and fell asleep dreaming of mountains and empty halls below the earth.

-

As the sun rose over his makeshift camp, Nori peeked blearily out from under his cloak’s hood and brushed off the leaves. He set off for the crossing at the Old Ford munching on a piece of Bombur’s waybread.

By about midday, he had reached the foothills of the Misty Mountains.

Gazing up at the lofty peaks, Nori breathed deeply of the mountain air and turned south.

As he traveled, he passed by many of the sights Ori described in his early letters home. The first night in the mountains he spent by the banks of a small stream, cheerfully burbling as it flowed its way down to eventually join up with the great Bruinen River. He enjoyed a dinner of freshly caught rabbit watching the sun set over the mountains and making the clear water glow orange and gold.

It took him just over three weeks to reach the valley of the Dimrill Dale, following the traces left by the hundreds-strong company Balin had led to Khazad-dûm almost six years previously.

He set up camp on the edge of the valley. Though he could have simply crossed the Dale and knocked on the front gates, something in the air set him on edge, and stopped his advance. It was too quiet, too still. The entire area seemed empty of life. Nori realized he had not seen any animals, nor heard any birdsong all day.

The last thought Nori had before sleep overtook him was that he hoped he was wrong…


	12. Intruders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori begins to explore the Dimrill Dale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning* if needed- bit of bloody violence.

The next morning was overcast, the sun shining weakly through the clouds, but still shedding enough light to explore by. Though it looked like it might rain, the air held none of the moisture or ozone smell that precluded a storm.

Cautiously checking his pack, Nori tightened the straps firmly across his chest and descended into the valley.

As with the night before, there was the pervading sense of desolation. Not a sound could be heard. There wasn’t even a breeze to stir the long grass of the Dale. Staying to the shadows at the edges of the valley, and keeping an eye on the great stone doors, Nori made his way around to the shores of the Mirrormere. The waters of the sacred lake did not seem as clear as he had always heard tell. He hoped it was just the clouds making it look grey and dim. As he tried to plot the best way around the lake, he suddenly heard voices and ducked into a nearby alcove, hand curling around the handle of the long dirk he kept tied to his pack. The voices were not dwarfish. Peeking around a rock, his eyes widened in shock. This could not be…

Snapping at each other in a mixture of the Black Speech and bastardized Westron were a pair of orcs. Throwing down their crudely wrought weapons, they both bent down and lapped at the waters of the Mirrormere like animals, long black tongues flicking out of their mouths like snakes, and knobbly-knuckled hands splashing at the precious water. Nori felt a shiver of disgust and rage, hand gripping the dirk tighter.

Through the spits and growls of the Black Speech, Nori gathered from what words he could understand that they were a patrol grumbling about the necessity of circumnavigating the valley to look for food.

“ _…no not enough...inside…”_

_“…tough meat…chew…metal -fur…”_

With mounting horror, Nori realized what they were talking about and, unable to contain himself any longer, sprang out of the niche with a roar and was upon the orcs before they could do more than let out screeches of alarm. One orc went down immediately in a spray of dark, viscous blood, and Nori disarmed the other in the same movement, pinning it to the ground with the stained dirk against its throat.

“What. Happened in there?!” Nori bellowed into its face, not caring about the noise in his blind fury. The orc was contributing to the din, cursing in its foul language, and scraping futilely at Nori’s gauntlets with its claws.

“What happened to my people?! Dwarves, you bastard, DWARVES!”

A cruel light shone in the orc’s eyes as it realized what Nori was demanding. “Dwarv? Dwarv?” It started cackling. “Dwarv dead. Dead dead dead! Dwarv meeeeeatsssss…” The last word was drawn out in a long hiss as it leaned up into Nori’s face, not caring about the blade at its neck.

Snarl growing into a scream, Nori slit its throat, stabbing again and again as its head fell back, mouth agape in a final, grotesque grin. Panting and covered in dark blood, Nori finally stood up when the orc’s face and torso was reduced to a mess of oozing holes.

As he slowly came back to his senses, Nori cast around for a place to hide the bodies in case any of their fellows were to come looking. He decided on the niche he had used earlier and dragged the orcs to it, stuffing the bodies unceremoniously in. He scuffed the ground on the way back to obscure any signs of blood, and picked up his pack where he left it by the Mirrormere. The water was unmistakably cloudy now with orc blood and dirt stirred from the struggle. As he looked into his reflection, Nori kept  murmuring, “It’s not true, it’s not true, it’s not true…”

Before moving around to the other side of the lake, Nori paused briefly to splash some of the water onto his face and arms, wiping at his clothes to remove the worst of the dark stains. Casting about for any signs he may have been seen, and concluding that, for now at least, he was still undetected, Nori continued on.

On the far side of the Mirrormere, the valley began to swing back towards the massive stone doors of the front gate, which had remained unmoved all day. Nori had avoided two more orc patrols on his way around the Dale, and so, still did not approach. He had decided he would try to find another way in. He knew of a hidden dwarf door set in the western side of the mountain, a relic from the days of Durin and his friendship with the elves of Hollin. Skirting the barren rock in front of the gates, Nori rounded the mountain and began to climb.


	13. The Watcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not disturb the water...

When night fell, Nori still had not found the western door.

It was getting too dark to continue when he descended into a small valley tucked alongside the mountain. All it contained was a pool of dark, still water. An odd smell was coming off the brackish-looking lake, and Nori was grateful his spare waterskin was still full. Skirting carefully around the water, he set about trying to find a safe place to settle in for the night.

Perhaps if Nori had not been so weary, so needful of rest, if he had not been feeling every one of his long years that night, he might have recognized the signs. The younger, travel-trained wanderer-thief Nori surely would have. During his circumnavigation of the mountain that day, Nori had continually come across signs of orc habitation, besides the patrols themselves. Bits of bone, scraped clean of meat, scraps of discarded armor and broken weapons, scars on the land from battles past. In this valley, by this pool, there was none of that. In fact, there were absolutely no signs of life. No animal tracks or leavings, no feathers or abandoned nests, no orcs. And no dwarves.

Nori should have picked up his pack, climbed out of that valley, and not looked back. As yet unknown to him, there was a reason why all living things avoided that place.

Half-hidden by the high branches of a tree, Nori spotted a shallow cave a little ways up the face of the mountain. With little struggle, and only getting caught on the tree branches once, Nori cleared the alcove of debris, and slid in. His pack hung on a conveniently placed limb nearby. Making one last check around, Nori settled down, closed his eyes, and was on the brink of sleep when suddenly he heard a commotion.

Bleating as it slid, a single deer tumbled down the wall on the other side of the pool. The rocks from the top of the bank that crumpled under its weight slid down after it. Nori was instantly alert, and watched as it shakily stood, and limping on three legs, approached the lip of the pool. Looking up, he saw no other deer, nor heard any other noises. This lone creature must have gotten separated from its herd and was wandering the range, lost. In its weakened state, it would be an easy kill. As Nori played with the grip of one of his hunting knives and contemplated how he could take it down without attracting unwanted attention, the deer reached the water, and bent its neck to drink.

Nori carefully shifted in his cave, rising to a crouch and adjusting his grip on the knife. If he launched from his elevated position with enough force, he reckoned he could be on top of the unsuspecting animal in a single leap. He readied himself for the jump, but as the ripples from the deer’s lapping tongue spread across the lake, he noticed bubbles beginning to surface near the center. With no more warning than that, the dark water exploded and a mass of thick tentacles writhed through the air towards the deer. Before the shocked creature could move, two of the tentacles had wrapped around its belly and hind legs and it was hoisted into the air, screaming and trying to buck free, foaming at the mouth in its terror. Nori watched in horror, unable to look away. The worst was yet to come. From the center of the lake, where the bubbles had first emerged, rose the head of the leviathan, its many-beaked maw sucking out from inside its face, clacking towards the deer. With no visible strain, the tentacles tore the unfortunate animal apart, ending its misery, and the halves were lowered towards the gaping, hideous mouth. With a rush of water, the monstrosity submerged, and the lake was once again silent and still, the only evidence of what had just occurred coming from the remaining ripples on the surface.

Nori pressed himself back as far as the cave would allow, shaking all over and breath coming shallow, with eyes unblinking. There are no words for the terror he felt, no way to describe the primal fear. He had never felt so scared and alone before in his life, but then again, he had never encountered something so ancient and evil. Smaug the Dragon Dread was a mere salamander to this thing. It should not exist, but there was no denying the evidence of his eyes, or the ice in his heart. Nori did not sleep that night, and for the rest of his life, would never be able to shake himself of the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so his reaction to the Watcher is pretty intense, I know, but think about it...he's all alone, surrounded by death (though he doesn't yet know it. yes he does, but he's in denial), and this THING he's never even heard of before just rips apart a deer in front of him. In LOTR at least they had the adrenaline of battle going and their friends at their side, but right now Nori has no one but himself and has just witnessed a monster from the beginning of time, and is hoping, HOPING it has not witnessed him. The Watcher was always one of the scariest creatures in the books for me precisely because it was never really described. It's alllll up to your imagination to go wild on it. 
> 
> Ok, thus ends my tiny and quickly written explanation of this chapter. Thank.


	14. A Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Warning* if needed: bit of violence towards the end

Morning came slowly to that small valley on the western side of the mountains. Much of it stubbornly remained in shadow, despite the gradual brightening of the sky.

Nori remained huddled in the shallow cave, unable to move. He had kept vigil all through the night, occasionally nodding off, but always snapping back into wakefulness quickly. There was no thing in all of Arda that he had ever heard about, come across, or fought that scared him more than that monster in the lake. He wondered if he had simply dreamed it in the night, for surely something so horrible could not exist. There was no sign of movement from the lake, no bubbles, no ripples, but even so, Nori sat in his niche, quietly questioning his own sanity until the sun rose high enough over the mountains to flood the valley with light. It was near midday when Nori finally slid down to the valley floor to continue his search for a way into the halls.

Staying as far away from the water as the rocks allowed, Nori skirted the edges of the valley, running his fingers along the walls. Suddenly, he stopped. Something felt different. Putting both hands on the stone, he gave an experimental push. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened, but some inexplicable sense told him he had found the hidden western door. He wracked his memory for the password, the trigger, anything that would make the door respond. In frustration, he pounded his fist against it as he thought. _If only Ori were ‘ere, ‘e would know, ‘e’s th’ one ‘oo told me ‘bout the damn door…_

A chill went down his spine as he recalled Ori _was_ the reason he was trying to open the door, and Nori sobered, standing back. He knew there was no point in continuing to try and force the portal. The space behind felt cold and empty. There would be no entry here. He had no choice but to continue.

As Nori made his way out of the cursed valley, he thought back to what the orc he killed on that first day in Dimrill Dale said. _Dwarv dead…dead dead dead._

It couldn’t be true could it? Balin had come with hundreds of stout, brave warriors. No rag-tag band of thirteen was this. There wasn’t an army in Middle Earth that could roust determined dwarves from their sacred halls if they didn’t want to move. It would take a dragon, or worse…

If Nori had not witnessed the horror in the dark and still lake the night before, he would have scoffed if someone told him there were older and more terrible things than dragons that still lurked in the deep places of the world. But now he thought back to a story he hadn’t heard since he was young; an old tale used to frighten naughty dwarrowlings who wouldn’t listen to their mothers… _Go to bed now, or Durin’s Bane will eat you up!_

His feet moved mechanically over the stones as he climbed out of the valley, still entertaining his dark speculations. _Dwarv dead…dead dead dead._

So distracted was he that he failed to notice the shapes slinking around to surround him until was too late.

“Dwarvvvv…”

 _Ah._ Nori thought as he looked up into the broken-toothed face of the orc cutting him off on the trail, becoming aware of the others at his sides and back. _I_ am _getting old._

With savage cries, the orcs were upon him.

His pack saved him from a killing blow, but he was nearly borne to the ground under the weight of the two orcs who had leapt onto it. With a mighty heave, he swung it off and into several other oncoming enemies, slowing their advance from one side, at least. His long dirk was in his hand and with it, he sliced at the hand of an orc with an upraised sword, disarming the creature and taking a few of its fingers off before beheading it with its own weapon.

The battle was a mess, a maelstrom of metal and blood. Nori lost count of how many times he’d been hit, and ran out of the breath to even cry out. Before long, he could not even feel his body, so it really didn’t matter either way. The dirk and sword had been long lost, to be replaced by other weapons taken from his fallen enemies, but as he kept swinging away reflexively, Nori wondered why he was bothering, what he was fighting for.

His mission had failed. Though he had not been able to get inside the mountain, he had an answer. And it was not the one he wanted. What then, was the point?

How could he return to Erebor and face his friends, face Dori, with what he knew. They would not believe him, would demand proof; proof he could not give, nor wanted to even if he had the means. What if they took it upon themselves to see what he could not? They would die on these slopes, as futile in their quest as he. Nori knew now that the mountain was sealed, protected from within by some force angrier and more malevolent than he could comprehend. The Kingdom of Dwarves would never have a foothold here again.

 _Better to let it all go, then,_ he thought with sudden clarity. Better to let his secret die with him. How easy it would be…

As the spearhead sunk itself into his shoulder, the blades fell from his numb hands, and Nori sank to his knees.

With the last of his strength, Nori forced his head up to greet death, drawing in a last raspy breath that tasted like blood. Vision narrowing, he saw the sun reflect off an upraised silver blade, curved and gleaming.

 _Silver?_ he thought, vaguely hearing the incongruous sound of hoofbeats amongst the screams of orcs. _Only folk wiv swords like that are…_

Merciful darkness took him before the swing fell.


	15. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's finally up? 
> 
> Sleepyhead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H-Hello again all. *sheepish wave* So so sorry about the incredibly long unexpected hiatus o.O Life caught me a bit off-guard, but things are getting back to normal and it's nice to be back :) Thanks for sticking around with me!

_This is…odd…_

Nori wasn’t quite sure what he expected of death, but this was not it.

_Shouldn’t there be more…stone? Or forges? Or…sumfing?_

He seemed to be surrounded by a soft light. Dwarves are not used to light of a soft nature. Or really anything of a soft nature. They are strengthened by the power of earth and fire, and light seems sort of…an airy thing.

_Where’s Ori?_

A sudden confusion and worry gripped him. Had he done something wrong? Ended up in the wrong place? Where were his ancestors, the ones who had gone before? He knew he probably merited no great reception, but he’d hoped to perhaps see Thorin and the lads again. Surely his own brother, at least…?

“Nori!”

Nori? Oh, that was his name, right. He tried to look around, tried to see who had called.

_Ori?_

“Nori! Wake up! Can you hear me? Nori, please, please wake up…”

_Wake…up?_

Nori opened his eyes.

He was still surrounded by a soft light, though now he could make out the shapes of leaves and vines carved, no, grown, into the ceiling. His body ached hideously, and he couldn’t move very well, though honestly he possessed no great desire to do so, nestled as he was in the downiest bed he had ever felt. Smooth sheets were gently tucked all around him, and his head was cushioned by a feather-stuffed pillow. _Presumably this is what floatin’ in a cloud feels like_ , he thought, _minus the damp_.

“Oh! Oh, you’re awake! You’re alive! Oh thank you, thank you!”

Whatever Bilbo was thanking was lost in the grateful sobs escaping his body as he clamped his hands around one of Nori’s and smiled joyfully through his tears.

_Bilbo? You’re…you’re not dead. You’re in…Rivendell…_

With an effort, Nori raised his head slightly and tried to express his confusion, but unfortunately, all that came out was a pained “Aggggh.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m sorry! Here, here…”

Bilbo bustled away, but swiftly came back with a tumbler of water, which he held to Nori’s lips, cupping a hand behind his head to help him drink.

When Nori could finally speak, he croaked out, “Bil…bo?”

“Yes! It’s me, Nori, oh thank goodness, it’s been days…” Bilbo helped Nori sit, propping him up with endless pillows and cushions, and fussing about to make sure he was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as someone covered in innumerable injuries can be.

Finally managing to get Bilbo to settle down, Nori accepted another tumbler of water, and leaned back into the cushiony mass as the hobbit launched into the tale of what had transpired during his mental absence.

“Elrond’s elves have been set on edge as of late. The patrols have been having more run-ins with orcs and darker creatures, especially in the mountains. I’m sure it must be the same near Erebor.

“A messenger dove flew in one day. Kelisand, one of the patrol captains, reported he was on the trail of an orc pack, and was hoping to perhaps track them back to their colony. We were not to expect him back for a few more nights.

“The next morning, however, there was another dove. They had exterminated the orcs and found where they had come from, but they had found something else too: a badly injured dwarf on the brink of death.

“I…I did not dare to think it was…

“They arrived back by nightfall of the following day. They must have ridden hard; steam was streaming off their mounts. Kelisand leapt from his horse holding in his arms a cloak drenched in blood, and he and Lord Elrond hurried to the Halls of Healing. I followed, not fully realizing the cloak held someone within it…it didn’t seem possible…When they laid it out, I was sure you were dead, it seemed there wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t bleeding.

“I was in shock. I said your name, and you stirred briefly, but were still once more, not moving for all Elrond’s efforts to revive you.  I remember fearing that I had done you harm, that you were surely dead now if you weren’t before. Kelisand had to lead me out. Elrond and his healers worked on you through the night and into the morn.

“When finally he emerged, Elrond said you were in the hands of fate now; whether you would live or die could be decided by none of us anymore. And so we waited.”

At this point, Bilbo had to stop, overwhelmed as his emotions caught up all at once. This time it was Nori who offered him water.

“Thank you,” Bilbo smiled when he regained his composure, wiping the tears from his eyes. “But you woke up! I knew you would…

“I sent a message to Erebor as soon as I was able; a party is coming to bring you home. Ah, but you should rest now! I do apologize for going on and on, have you enough water? Are you comfortable? Shall I fetch you anything? Elrond says you shouldn’t eat just yet, but surely some broth wouldn’t go amiss, or a hot pot of tea…”

Bilbo puttered about the room, fussing again over Nori despite the dwarf’s weak protestations. In all honesty, it reminded him of Dori, and this was strangely comforting.

When he was satisfied Nori had everything he could need for the time being, Bilbo refilled his water cup, gave his pillow a final fluff, and went off in search of Elrond, calling back over his shoulder for Nori to rest up.

Alone again, Nori idly twirled his now-empty cup, trying to make it flip onto the back of his hand. His arm shook too much to have any success with this, so he set it on a stool by the side of the bed and looked around the room, appreciatively taking in the fine carvings covering the walls, and the living plants skillfully cultivated to grow around the framework of exposed supports. After appraisingly eyeing a fine set of silver candlesticks out of habit, Nori tore his gaze away and, for the first time, examined his injuries.

Indeed, it did not seem there was anywhere orc blades and clubs did not find. Bandages wrapped his chest and torso, arms and legs. Under the long tunic, it looked like he was wearing another shirt, albeit a lumpy one with suspicious rusty stains. There were several poultices affixed to his back, shoulder, and sides where particularly serious wounds needed extra care. Despite this, he found he was feeling better than he had any right to, and decided he’d had enough of lying around.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Nori flipped off the sheets, and slid to the floor. Encouraged by his success at standing firmly in once place, he took a step…

And promptly fell on his face.

While pushing himself back up, and appreciating how satisfying a language Khuzdul was to curse in, there was a muffled squeak from the doorway, and Bilbo was beside him, hands under one arm and trying to help, despite Nori being half again his weight. There was a presence at his other side, and suddenly he was standing again, though he had to lean back against the bed for support.

“Now, Master Dwarf, please do take caution, it would not do for you to rip out all your stitches. There are a great deal many of them, and it would be tedious for all parties if we had to re-sew them.”

Nori looked up into the face of a fair elf with long, dark hair held back with silver clasps. Though lordly, the elf had a kindly smile and a twinkle to his eyes, showing his words held no malice.

“Oh, Nori! This is Lord Elrond, do you remember? It was only one night that we stayed in Rivendell all those years ago, but…”

“Aye, I do remember,” Nori said. “Lord Elrond. I understand I am deeply in your service. If there is anything you need that I can procure, it is yours, My Lord.” With a great effort, Nori bowed as deeply as the pain would allow.

“Oh do stop, Nori, remember what I said about stitches,” Elrond was quick to raise Nori up. “You owe me nothing. I could not rightly turn you away, now could I? And stop acting so formal, it’s not as if we haven’t met before…My captain still inquires after that tea set, you know.”

“Hahaha, I shall send it back in a golden box once I return!”

Bilbo looked on wide-eyed as Nori and Elrond told him of the last time the dwarf visited Rivendell on a cross-country trip with Ori, before Bilbo’s arrival, and of Nori’s ‘liberation’ of the now infamous tea set, ‘just for fun’, and ‘to keep in practice’.

Still chuckling, Elrond turned back to Nori with a smile.

“And how are your brothers, and the others of the Company, Nori? It has been a while since I’ve had any correspondence with Erebor, outside of dreary official chatter.”

Nori went pale and had to lean against the bed again, any good humor and strength gained from the storytelling now lost.

Concerned, Bilbo and Elrond were once again at his side, helping him back into bed.

Unable to speak, Nori just nodded gratefully as Bilbo said, “Our apologies, Nori! You shouldn’t be exerting yourself so much so soon! We’ll leave you to rest now…”

Following Bilbo towards the door, Elrond turned his head to look at Nori a final time before leaving, more than just concern in his eyes. Nori was unable to meet his gaze.

Hoping his fears were unfounded, Elrond closed the portal behind him with a soft whisper of stirring leaves.

-

When his friends had left, Nori lay in the soft folds of the bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. The light was dimming and reddening as evening approached. Nori was left to his thoughts and memories. Alone again, in the darkening room, he wept.


	16. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AH’M GOIN’TAE KILL YOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooow I thought I posted this chapter AGES ago, but no, it's been even longer since I've updated than the last time this happened, I am so so sorry :( But um. Onwards with the story! heh heh iamsosorry

The following days ushered great improvement in Nori’s condition.

Whatever magic Elrond and his healers had seemingly wrought had done wonders. Every day, Nori’s wounds hurt less, and he was soon able to walk again without the assistance of Bilbo or a cane, though the Hobbit insisted on accompanying him almost everywhere, fearful of an accidental fall. Nori found he did not mind the constant presence; it was far, far better than being on his own then.

He took some care to not be caught alone with Elrond, however. He could see there were some questions the elf lord wanted to ask; questions he did not want to answer.

Despite his inner turmoil, he forced a cheerful look to his face, unwilling for Bilbo to see him upset. In company, it wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be to keep up the pretense. Rivendell was a place of peace and healing, and more than once he wondered if it might be better for him to stay on rather than return to face his brother and the others in Erebor, but something kept him from asking Elrond about the possibility.

-

On the fifth morning after Nori’s awakening, there was a great ruckus in the entrance courtyard. Swinging his legs out of bed and lacing up the front of his tunic, Nori strolled to the balcony of the second-storey room provided for him to see what the commotion was about. What he saw made him grin from ear to ear and stretch the stitches on the side of his face.

Awkwardly reining in to a halt was a broad dwarven warrior seated upon a shaggy mountain pony, a pair of twin axes strapped to his back. Following him was a low covered wagon, driven by two dwarves. The party was completed by another rider making up the rearguard. Nori saw Bilbo hurrying out to greet them, Elrond waiting under an arch to give them some space.

“Bilbo! Laddie, where is he? Tell me he’s no’-” Vaulting off his mount, Dwalin strode towards the Hobbit, worry and fear writ large upon his face.

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a large pillow impacting the side of Dwalin’s head, exploding, and sending feathers flying everywhere. It was accompanied by the sound of cackling from above; Nori pleased that the missile had flown true despite the shaking of his arm, still not quite recovered from the spear thrust.

Dwalin’s eyes went wide as he stared up at the laughing dwarf, his face reddening as feathers continued to float down around him.

“You-! They said-we thought-AH’M GOIN’TAE KILL YOU.”

Elves, dwarves, and one poor Hobbit were swept aside as Dwalin rushed into the building, casting about furiously to find a way up. Elrond drifted up silently beside him.

“Welcome back to Rivendell, Lord Dwalin,” he said with a faint smile tugging at his lips, “If you’ll just come this way…?”

Flustered, Dwalin turned to see Elrond gesturing towards a staircase he somehow missed, snorted brusque thanks, and took to the stairs. _Why were there so damned many steps? Bloody elves…_

He burst into the first room and proceeded menacingly toward the balcony where Nori was leaning, wheezing and brushing tears of laughter from his eyes, still in stitches over Dwalin’s reaction.

“Huh-hullo, Dwalin,” Nori managed to gasp out with a grin, pushing himself off the rail and walking over to greet his friend.

Dwalin slowed, the furious glare on his face softening to concern and relief as he finally had a good look at Nori.

Though much better than how he arrived, the evidence of Nori’s injuries was still obvious. The ends of bandages poked out the ends of his sleeves and trouser legs, and could be seen at the neck of the shirt he wore. His hair hung long and undone, merely tied back with simple string, and did little to hide the new scar puckering the side of his face. Nori was smiling, but Dwalin could tell there was a deep sorrow behind his eyes; of what he did not know. Wordlessly he closed the distance and wrapped Nori in an embrace, mindful of his wounds.

“Wuh…Dwalin…” Initially surprised, Nori awkwardly patted the warrior’s broad back, “Uh…hey, careful, ya lug, or I’ll bleed on ye, heh heh.”

“Nori…” Dwalin said, arms still locked around him, voice slightly muffled by the mane of hair. “Nori, shut up. Ah thought Ah’d-we’d lost ye. Ah knew ye shouldnae gone. Ye said everyone was tryin’ tae get ye tae stay, why didn’t ye listen? Ye always jes’ do whatever ye want without thinkin’. You…Ah-”

“Hey,” Nori interrupted softly, “No harm, innit? I’ll be alrigh’. Elrond is the best healer there is. We’ve ‘ad worse scrapes, you an’ I-” He was stopped by a fit of coughing, but looked back up into Dwalin’s concerned face with a grin, patting the warrior’s arm so his vice grip on him would loosen. “Alright. Maybe not worse. This was pretty bad. But it’s not like I went out into the world not knowing the dangers. I jus’…overestimated my ability to deal with them. Maybe you’re right. Maybe everyone’s right. I’ll come home. This time I’ll stay. No more flittin’ about by meself anymore. Happy?” Even as he said the words with a conciliatory smile, Nori felt his heart break a little more; for despite everything, he knew he would miss the road.

“That’ll have tae do,” Dwalin said, pulling Nori in for one more hug before stepping back to assess him with a critical eye. “When should we go? Ah’d like tae leave before we starve on the rabbit food these elves are so fond of, but a’course ye might not do so well on th’ road in yer state…”

“Maybe leave it fer one more day? Bilbo will want to catch up as well, I’m sure.”

“Bilbo,” Dwalin’s eyes went wide, “Bloody-, Ah just blew past him down there. Damnit-” Muttering curses at his own rudeness, Dwalin stomped back down the stairs.

Chuckling, Nori cast about for his overclothes to properly dress. As he was pulling on his boots, there was a knock on the door, and Nori turned to see Elrond.

“Nori,” Elrond began, “You are looking much better, we should be able to remove most of the bandages from your extremities tonight. In my professional opinion, your healing facilities are exceptional. Lord Dwalin seems eager to have you home; with care, you can be on the road as early as the following day, although…if you’d be willing to extend your stay an extra night, there is someone coming here who would very much like to meet you.”

“Someun coming? ‘Oo might that be?” Puzzled, Nori did up his boot laces and straightened.

“You will see in two night’s time.”

“…Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH’M GOIN’TAE KILL YOU is basically the reaction friends should have when they get grievously injured and scare the piss out of each other, I think.


	17. Lady of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A queenly visitor...

The following two days were a time of relaxation and contentment. Bilbo took great joy in showing the dwarves around his new home. The dwarves who had accompanied Dwalin were young guards in his corps, including Bombur’s eldest son. Bromur seemed to enjoy food as much as his father, and was intrigued by what the others called ‘rabbit food’. The Head of Kitchens was more than pleased to provide him with a satchel of herbs and spices to take back to Bombur, along with a book of suggested uses. The young dwarves proved more open-minded than their forebears, and many new friendships were made in the days they stayed.

After dinner on the second night, Nori waved good eve to his fellows, and was about to go up the stairs to his room, when Elrond materialized from the shadows.

“Gah! Cripes, mate, ye near stopped me ‘eart,” Nori complained, rubbing his chest for emphasis.

“Apologies,” Elrond said with a hint of amusement. “Would you like to meet the Lady Galadriel?”

“Lady Galadriel?” Nori followed the Elf Lord.

On a balcony overlooking the Valley of Imladris, underneath a vine-wrapped arch, stood a being of pure light. At least, that was how she seemed to Nori. Bathed in moonlight, seemingly lit from within and without, was the Queen of the Elves. As she turned at their arrival, the Lady Galadriel met Nori’s eyes and graced him with a smile. His heart really did catch then, for her beauty was matched by none on this Earth.

“My Lady, this is Lord Nori of Erebor,” Elrond said with a bow before quietly exiting the chamber.

“Lord Nori,” Galadriel said, extending a hand, still smiling, “I have heard much of you.”

Nori stumbled as he stepped forward, grasping her fingers cautiously. His normally silver tongue failed him as he stammered out an answer. “Er, I am, um, honored? My Lady…”

Galadriel maintained a grip on his hand, gently leading him toward a low bench. “Come, my Lord, tell me of Erebor. It has been long ages since I have seen Dwarven halls.”

Nervously clearing his throat, Nori hesitantly began to speak, wondering what would entertain an Elven queen. “Er, jus’ Nori will do good as any, my Lady. I hold I am no Lord but in name…”

He began to describe the vast underground city and how they rebuilt after the devastation of the dragon; as Galadriel’s eyes lit with interest and wonder, his confidence grew and he settled into a comfortable cadence, a familiar smile growing on his face.

Galadriel found herself charmed by the thief, taken in by his detailed descriptions of his home and his people, and laughing at anecdotes of his friends, Dwarves she had heard tell of but never met: Thorin’s Brave Thirteen.

Gesturing too broadly one too many times, Nori triggered a fit of coughing and struggled to regain his composure. Galadriel swiftly laid a hand on his back and a sudden cool breath seemed to fill his chest, bringing with it sweet relief. Recovering, Nori turned slightly to wipe the blood off his lips, hoping Galadriel would not notice.

She gazed upon him with only concern. “How came you by your injuries?”

Nori tried to act nonchalant. “It’s nothing, my Lady, nothing to concern you with…I just…I…” Looking into her face, Nori saw that she knew he lied. The more he tried to deflect, the weaker his defenses became. In a low and shaking voice, Nori began his tale, for the first time voicing his doubts, his worries, and his suspicions he had kept secret for so long.

When he finished, ending with waking up in Rivendell, Nori stayed very still for a moment. A heavy fog seemed to have lifted from his body; he felt empty and spare, but not at peace, as he hoped venting his thoughts would finally bring. Instead, it seemed to just leave a space ready to be filled with something else.

Galadriel, too, sat still and quietly. She had suspected for some time the violence that visited Durin’s Hall. A ripple had disrupted her pool years ago, and she had glimpsed a flash of the Balrog, awoken from the depths beneath the earth. She now knew with certainty what had happened in Khazad-dûm, and she closed her eyes in sudden sorrow. All Nori’s fears would prove to be true.

Nori noticed her silence and was loath to break it, but he had to know. “I am right, then. They’re all dead, aren’t they?” Nori looked into Galadriel’s eyes, willing her to tell him he was wrong, but knowing that she wouldn’t.

“Yes. There are none who live beneath those stones now, save the spawn of Morgoth.”

Nori’s chest constricted. He closed his eyes, and took a shuddering breath, weaving his fingers though the graying hair at his temples as he lowered his head into his hands.

He knew, of course he knew. The signs were all there, he had just stupidly, desperately hoped he was wrong. If the dwarves still held Khazad-dûm, he would have been hailed long before he reached the Dimrill Dale. The doors would have been open to the sun, and Ori would have been there to welcome him. He would have had an explanation for the letters stopping. They would have feasted and sang, and Ori would have led him though the grand halls and caverns, trying to show him everything at once and scolding him for not bringing Dori…

 “Oh, Ori…”

The Lady of Lorien knelt on the floor before him, her gown pooling around them. She took his hands in hers and looked up into his tear-streaked face. “Your brother died well, Nori. Ori was strong until the end, he had a Hero’s death. He did not suffer. Do not burden your heart with worry; he will be there to welcome you to Mahal’s halls when it is your time. I’ve no doubt he is happily cataloging the library as we speak. There is quite a lot of material, so he’ll be quite preoccupied until you join him.” Galadriel gave a wry smile, as if sensing what Nori with his odd humor needed to hear.

Nori returned a crooked smile, “Aye, he would enjoy that.” In Galadriel’s presence, he felt his heart lightening despite his desperate sorrow. It was just enough to bring him back to the present.

“Aah, my Lady! Ye should not have knelt fer th’ likes o’ me!” Stuttering with panic, he leapt to his feet as she rose, fussing the air with his hands, though not daring to touch her. Galadriel laughed, the kindest sound he had ever heard, like silver bells, and laid her hands on his shoulders to bring him to a halt. She looked into his eyes and smiled. A smile from her, and his heart remembered peace. Nori brought her hands to his lips and kissed them.

Releasing her, Nori suddenly flushed, and took a large step back, fumbling with his own hands, and finally settling for stuffing them awkwardly into his pockets. “Well. I’ll jus’, er, I suppose I’ll leave you t’yer business…then. Right.”

Giving a low bow to Galadriel, Nori straightened and looked upon her a final time. “Thank you, My Lady of Light. Farewell.”

“Farewell, Noble Thief,” Galadriel answered, intending the title with honor. “Go in grace, and know peace.”

Dipping his head, Nori exited the open chamber.

-

Galadriel watched Nori wind his way back to his room from the high balcony. He moved with tired and heavy steps. She wished him well in his life, and knew it would be difficult. He had a lot to bear.

Finally turning away, she entered the library hall. Elrond was reading in a chair off to one side and stood at her arrival.

Galadriel smiled sadly. “Lord Elrond, would you walk with me?”

“Surely, Lady Galadriel.”

They walked in silence through the darkened halls, all the residents of Imladris long since gone to their beds. Elrond thought of the rough company of Dwarves that had passed through his valley all those many years ago. He remembered in particular one young dwarf, youngest save the princes, who was quiet and curious, more willing than his fellows to learn and explore when not under their watchful eyes. A question rose in his mind as they left the library, Galadriel walking forward to a low rail above a waterfall.

He followed her out. “My Lady?”

Galadriel turned, radiant in the moonlight. “Yes, Lord Elrond?”

Elrond paused before speaking, stepping forward to join her on the balcony. “What you said to Nori…of Ori dying well? Of him not suffering? Was it true?”

Galadriel’s breath subtly altered, her shoulders suddenly heavy with her many years. Her light seemed to dim, as though a cloud had passed over the moon, though it was a clear night. When she lifted her eyes to meet his, they were filled with unfathomable sorrow. Her answer when it came was so soft he thought he had heard it only in his mind.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the people in all of Arda, I think the only one Nori would break down and tell everything to would be Galadriel. There's just something about her, I've always loved her character and how she was described, and how she was portrayed in the movies just cemented that for me. Is my admiration-crush showing? It might be...


	18. Leavetaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farewells...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Augh, so sorry for the loooong delay, the holidays caught up with me. Hope your holidays have been nice :) And happy new year (soon)!

Nori awoke to a headache like Mahal himself was smashing in his skull. He had slept only a few hours; the sun was just breaking into the valley of Imladris. He knew his brother was dead, but had it all just been a dream? He thought he’d met a shining Lady, the fairest and wisest in all of Middle Earth, and she had brought him both heartbreak and peace. _Heh. Now I_ know _I was dreaming,_ he thought, shaking his head, and making the aching worse. Stretching limbs stiff with pain, and hoping some fresh air would clear his pounding skull, he staggered to his balcony and leaned on the rail.

Most of Rivendell was still asleep. The morning light on the still scene made it look like a painting, impossibly brought to life. The only movement was the flow of the river Bruinen rushing through the middle of the valley, and the waterfall that fed it. _Ori loved this place,_ Nori thought sadly, _He should have stayed here with Bilbo. He would have been happy._ But this was not true, and Nori knew it in his heart of hearts. Ori did love his stays in beautiful Rivendell, but he would have gotten restless eventually. _Just like me. Why’d he have to be like me?_ Morose now, on top of his headache, Nori desperately wanted to sink into the floor and just continue to the depths of the earth. It was then that he caught a glimpse of movement along the valley wall…

A line of elves, dressed in silver, some mounted astride proud horses, were on the sloping path leading out of Rivendell. Lord Elrond was at their head as an escort, head turned to speak to the guards at the front of the column. Nori silently observed their passing, feeling a slight sorrow, though he didn’t quite know why.

Halfway down the column, one of the mounted elves slowly turned a hooded face towards the dwarf, as though they sensed his gaze. A fair hand lifted to remove the hood, and Nori recognized the elf he thought he had only dreamed. He drew in a breath, for even though his eyesight was not what it once was, he remembered her features, her eyes and voice, and thought maybe he could just see her smiling at him once again.

Galadriel raised a hand in simultaneous greeting and farewell, and Nori answered in kind. Strangely, his headache seemed to have lifted, and he found his wounds hurt less. As he watched the elves depart the valley, a cool breeze started up, and the fresh air brought with it further respite. Feeling better now, Nori left the window and began to dress. Despite the early hour, he was no longer feeling tired. This was to be his last morning in Rivendell, and he decided he did not want to waste it.

-

Bilbo found him in a small garden, drinking sweet mead from a goblet and watching the waters pour from the falls. Nori turned, hearing the hobbit’s approach.

“Ah, Bilbo! Wot are ye doin’ up so early?”

“I am often awake at this hour; the morning light is so lovely from here, is it not? I see you’ve found the best seat in the valley. I do so love this view.” The two stood in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the calls of birds waking and the crash of the waterfall.

“You and Dwalin are leaving today.” It was not a question, but a sad statement. Bilbo was looking forlornly into his mug of tea.

“Aye. ‘Bout time I ‘eaded ‘ome, b’fore Dori bursts a blood vessel, ha,” Nori chuckled. He noticed Bilbo’s expression. “Ye want t’come wiv us?”

“I…I would, but…” For the first time, Nori noticed Bilbo’s hands were trembling slightly, the movement betrayed only by the faint ripples in his cup. Even though it had only been five years or so since he’d last seen his friend, Bilbo seemed to have aged twice that number. With a start, Nori realized Bilbo was very old for a Halfling, and wondered at how he still seemed so hale, despite the shaking of his hands and the lines on his face. Bilbo looked up from his cup and smiled ruefully. “I suppose I’ve grown fond of my bed and keep here, the road does not call to me as it once did.”

“I understand,” Nori nodded. “It would be a nice place to…” The thought of asking Bilbo if he might stay as well flashed through Nori’s mind briefly, but was swiftly pushed aside. He needed to go back to the Mountain. There was nothing else for it.

“Ah!” He said instead. “Come now, Bilbo. This shall be my last morning here. Please, show me your home. I’m afraid I missed most of your earlier tours…”

Smiling, the two friends strolled off to take in the comforts of the last homely house east of the sea one final time.

-

The pair returned to Nori’s room some time later to discover Dwalin pounding on Nori’s door and shouting something along the lines of:

“NORI! Ye better not’ve died on meh in there, d’ye hear? Ah will _no’_ take yer sorry carcass home in that wagon. Ye have tae the count of ONE tae open this door, or Ah will break it down an’ beat ya wit’ it! ONE-”

“Oh, is that wot the wagon was for?” Nori quipped from behind the warrior. Dwalin spun around, face red.

“Er…no! Ah never said that…it’s fer…supplies,” Dwalin improvised, looking uncomfortable.

“A’course, yeh,” Nori smirked. He turned to the Hobbit. “’Scuse me now, Bilbo, it looks like someun’s impatient t’get goin’. I’ll just grab my stuff. Two tics.”

“Ah jus’ dun want tae lose the sun is all,” Dwalin glowered as Nori’s door shut in his face. “Ye sure ye dun want tae come with, Bilbo?”

“I’m…sure, Dwalin. Thank you,” Bilbo smiled gently.

Dwalin looked down and away. “Miss ya, is all…” he muttered gruffly as Nori’s door opened and the thief joined them, dressed for travel but carrying no bags.

“I feel naked,” he complained as they descended the stairs to the courtyard where Bromur and the two other young guardsmen, Gren and Torne, stood waiting by the wagon.

Dwalin gave him an odd look.

“Lost all me knives, didn’t I?” Nori snapped in response, and Dwalin chuckled. There was a sudden flash of silver in the air, and Nori caught the dagger Dwalin tossed him, sliding into his boot with a satisfied smile, never breaking stride. Shaking his head indulgently, Bilbo followed his friends.

“Wagon or pony, Nori?” Dwalin asked quietly before they reached the square.

“Po-,” Nori began saying automatically, always having been the best rider of the group, but he knew riding would be too painful at that point, and he had no intention of looking like a fool for pride’s sake. He sighed, “Wagon.”

Nodding, Dwalin strode ahead, barking orders at the younger dwarves. Gren and Torne mounted up, and Bromur settled in the back of the wagon, amidst the boxes and bags of supplies the Elrond was sending with them. Many elves came in and out of the courtyard to bid the dwarves farewell and safe travels. Elrond himself would escort them out of the valley.

Turning, Nori placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Well. This is farewell, I suppose. Ye’ve always been a great friend, Bilbo. I ‘ope t’see ye soon.” The friends embraced warmly. Dwalin joined them to also exchange words of farewell with Bilbo, and sooner than everyone would have liked, the dwarves were leaving the Valley of Imladris, waving back at the tearful Hobbit, standing small and alone beneath the arch, holding a hand up until he could see them no longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shoutout in this chapter to Jed Brophy, Nori's actor, actually being an accomplished horseman. Rockin.
> 
> -extremely mild DoS spoiler warning- Just thought this was funny... In the very beginning when Gandalf is leaving them, and he shouts 'Not my horse!', the look on Nori's face as he stops in the middle of undoing the straps XD I automatically thought he was just stealing the kit for some reason XD


	19. Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected road-mates!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of light-hearted fluff, mostly

 “So. Tell meh wha’ happened.”

They were some miles from where Elrond had left them to return to Rivendell, coming down out of the mountains.

Nori thought furiously. “Erm. Not much t’say really. The bastards caught me off guard. Lucky one of Elrond’s patrols was ranging that-, um, where I was, I mean.”

“And where were you? The orcs must be growing bolder than we thought for them tae be so far in elvish territory…”

“Er. Yes! You’re right. Very odd…”

Dwalin looked sidelong at his friend. “There’s somethin’ you’re no’ tellin’ meh.”

Nori wouldn’t meet his gaze. “No! I just…I’m tired, alrigh’? Leave it, would you. I’ll tell the whole story when we’re back in Erebor, I dun want t’keep repeatin’ it t’everyone we see.”

Dwalin could see there was no point in pushing the subject; Nori had retreated into a defensive glower. With a grunt of acquiescence, Dwalin lightly snapped the reins over the ponies, and their journey continued in silence.

-

 “Nori. Wake up.”

Two nights out of Rivendell, the party was camped in a clearing.

Dwalin’s hand clamped on his shoulder and those words hissed in his ear brought Nori out of a dreamless sleep. Years of habit made him alert almost instantly, arming himself with an axe borrowed from one of the young guardsmen, his still-healing body protesting all the while. Though outwardly ready for action, Nori struggled to quell the monologue in his head.

 _Not again not again not again._ _There are no orcs here no orcs no orcs no orcs._

He gripped the axe hard with white-knuckled hands, trying to stop them shaking, and hoping no one would notice. Fortunately, the others were all peering into the darkness surrounding the camp, backs to the remaining embers in the firepit.

Beside him, Dwalin growled low, “Steady, lads, steady…” as the faint rustling coming from the trees drew closer. Dwalin tensed, but Nori laid a quick hand on his arm, brows furrowed as he listened harder.

“Shh…” He thought he could make out words…

“…can’t have gotten so far, could they? I’m so sorry again, I must not have tied the knots as well as I thought! Ooh, bother…”

“…’s alright, mate! No harm. We’ll catch those crafty little ponies soon enough; they probably just caught sight of some berries and wanted a snack!”

“I hope you’re right, and they didn’t become the snack themselves for sumthing…”

“Surely not, there’s naught this side of the woods but elves, and they leave well enough alo-AAH!”

Seven sets of weapons in seven pairs of hands lifted simultaneously as two figures stumbled into the darkened camp.

“Wait!” Nori cried out as Dwalin swung his warhammer high. The figure he was about to bring it crashing down upon lowered its mattock and snapped its head around at the sound of Nori’s voice.

“Nori?!”

“Bofur?!” Dwalin recognized those lilting tones.

“Dwalin!” The second stranger stepped up beside Bofur.

“Bollocks,” Nori lowered his axe, staring incredulously at his brother.

“N-Nori! Oh my stars-” Dori dropped his bolas and lurched forward, enveloping Nori in a tearful and crushing embrace, heightened emotions causing him to forget his strength. Nori stiffened in agony as all his injuries cried out.

“Easy there, Dori, easy! He’s had a time of it, careful,” Dwalin gently separated the brothers, setting Nori to one side where Bofur lent him an arm to lean on. Nori gratefully patted Bofur on the back.

“Hullo, Bof’. Alrigh’?”

“Yeh. Yourself?”

“Glorious.”

Bofur let out a dry chuckle, hiding his concern behind nonchalance, as was their way. And he was working hard to disguise just how worried he was. With his arm around Nori, he could feel how much thinner his friend had become, and how much he needed his support to stand, though he was trying to hide it.

During this, Dori had taken a moment to recollect himself and his bolas, and now again came forward. He tutted as he fussed about Nori, straightening his collar, brushing imaginary dirt from his shoulder. Nori endured his ministrations in silence, but when he caught a glimpse of Bofur’s bemused face from the corner of his eye, he glared and pushed himself off of both of them, grumbling indignantly. Dwalin had since dismissed the guardsmen to their posts or bedrolls, so Nori was glad they did not witness that at least. The warrior was himself unsuccessfully trying to hide a grin. Nori shot him a look that promised to punch that grin off his face later, which just made Dwalin smile more.

“Wot,” Nori snapped, trying to regain control of the situation, “are you two blocks doin’ out ‘ere anyway?”

“We were goin’ t’Rivendell, obviously!” Bofur replied cheerfully.

“Dwalin refused to let me come,” Dori began with a dark glower in the captain’s direction.

Dwalin was quick to defend himself. “Ye would’ae slowed us down! Everyone knows you’re rubbish on a pony!”

“Like you’re any better! You couldn’t make one go straight if you stuck a carrot in front of its face!”

“So, not to be stopped, Dori set out on his own,” Bofur hastily interjected, placing himself deftly between the two bristling dwarves, “and we fortuitously met on the road! Bombur sent a swift raven to the shoppe, and I must admit to being worried…” The first sign of a frown appeared on Bofur’s face, but he quickly smiled again. “We, um. Got a bit lost. And it seems our ponies have gotten loose…But what luck that we’ve run into you lot now! What are the chances, eh?” Bofur finished off his tale, clapping both Nori and Dwalin on the back, carefully, in Nori’s case.

Suddenly the sounds of foliage rustling in the darkness sounded again in the night, and the friends sprung apart, hands going for weapons.

“What now?” growled Dwalin.

“Woah, woah!” A mounted figure was suddenly silhouetted against the edge of the clearing, reigning in his pony. “It’s me, cap’n! You wouldn’t guess what I found when I went scouting…”

Bromur, son of Bombur, dismounted and walked into the campsite, leading not one, but three ponies. “These little lasses were wand’ring ‘round some brambles further on, thought I’d- Uncle Bofur?!”

Bofur was trying hard to stifle his laughter, for fear of disturbing the sleeping guardsmen. “Bromur, my boy! It seems you’ve found our ponies.” He turned to Dori and Nori. “See? More good luck! Things are looking up for us, lads!”

Unable to resist smiling in the face of Bofur’s optimism, the brothers exchanged grins. Nori did not resist as Dori rested his arm across his shoulders.

“What…have I missed? Sirs?” Bromur was looking bewildered, the ponies gently knickering at each other behind him.

“This is a tale for the morning,” Dwalin said, yawning hugely. “Bed for us. Ah’ll wake the lads.”

As Gren and Torne took to their posts, the rest settled in for sleep, Dori to one side of Nori, and Bofur laying out his bedroll next to his nephew, whispering as he retold how he and Dori had chanced upon them, unable to wait until morning.

“Nori.”

Nori rolled over, blinking blearily at his brother. “Wot now?”

Dori’s voice came softly out of the darkness, the moon behind him shadowing his features. “I’m so glad to see you safe. My brother. I’m so glad…” His hand wrapped around Nori’s arm and he squeezed gently, as if reassuring himself Nori was indeed there. After a moment, he turned back over, and Nori lay listening as Dori’s breath grew even and deep. The rhythm of Dori’s breathing lulled Nori, and he drifted off to sleep, truly comfortable and relaxed as he hadn’t been since he left the Mountain.

-

The following morning dawned bright and clear; a good day for traveling. Nori was awakened by the sound of Bofur whistling a jaunty tune as he packed. The others were all already up, or stretching in their blankets.

“Oof, I’ll never get used to this.” Beside Nori, Dori was sitting up, cracking his spine to get the kinks out. “It’s been too long since I’ve been on the road; I’ve forgotten how it was to sleep on the ground.”

“I bet you’re regrettin’ leavin’ that feather bed to come hunt me down now, eh, brother,” Nori chuckled, wincing slightly as his own stretching pulled at the wounds on his body. As he brushed back his sleep-mussed hair, Dori gave a shocked gasp.

“Nori! Your…your face…”

Bofur turned to see what the commotion was about, and his song died on his lips.

The light of day brought the extent of Nori’s injuries into sharp focus, not least the long ugly scar on the right side of his face extending from his temple and into his beard.

Nori looked between Dori and Bofur, confused for a moment, but soon remembering. “Wot? Wot’s-oh. Right.” He self-consciously reached up a hand and scratched at the suddenly itchy scar. “Um. It’s not as bad as all that.”

Bofur said nothing but came right up to Nori’s face to take a closer look. His expression was one of cold fury, such a far cry from how he usually was that he seemed almost a different person. Nori tried to shy away from his gaze, but Bofur was relentless, even grabbing the collar of the light tunic Nori was wearing to stop him ducking off. The movement opened Nori’s loose shirt slightly, and Bofur saw the new mess of scars criss-crossing his friend’s chest, the worst a star-shaped tear, still red and puckered, where the spear had punched through his shoulder. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched it so tight Nori could hear his teeth grinding.

Next to Nori, Dori sat silently, his expression stretched and pained as if he suffered the same wounds as his brother. Gently, he untangled Bofur’s grip on Nori’s shirt, and carefully pulled the sides back together, lacing up the front with deft fingers.

“Brother,” Dori’s voice was soft and heavyhearted. “Nori. What happened to you?”

Nori was dimly aware of Dwalin hovering beside Bofur, both of them watching him, and of his brother’s hand on his shoulder. This was his chance; his chance to tell them the truth of Khazad-dûm. They would grieve, yes, but they would know. And he wouldn’t be alone anymore. But as he opened his mouth to speak, the words caught in his throat, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t look Dori in the eyes and tell him Ori was dead. Instead he drew his knees up to his chest, leaned his arms upon them to hide his face, and lied.

“ When I left Dale, I went west, just a walk along the mountains. On the way back…that’s when it ‘appened. I must’a got too close to a nest or summat…should’a been payin’ more attention. It was stupid. There were jus’ too many fer me t’...I should’a listened, alrigh’? I should’a listened when you lot told me not t’go. I won’t anymore. I already promised Dori, didn’t I, bruv? I know I ain’t young anymore, I jus’ wanted one last…walk. T’-t’see. ‘M sorry. Sorry.”

Sitting deathly still, believing that any moment one of them was going to growl “Liar”, Nori was shocked when instead, two arms encircled him and squeezed. He lifted his head to see Bofur kneeling beside him, the rage thankfully gone from his face, smiling. “Glad you’re back now, is all,” the miner said.

Gasping quietly with relief, Nori huffed out a breath of laughter, and looped a grateful arm around his friend. Without warning, he threw himself backwards, pulling Bofur with him, and planting a hand on his chest, flipped him head over heels onto the ground behind him.

The movement had _hurt_ , but as he lay on the ground wheezing with pain and laughter, Nori decided it was worth it just to see the shock on his companions’ faces. After a moment of stunned immobility, Bofur sat up, hat askew, and bellowed, “You bastard!” Hauling Nori upright, Bofur hugged him again, and the two friends laughed long and loudly. Dwalin shook his head, smiling, and went off to supervise the loading of the wagon, Bofur releasing Nori to help his nephew.

Nori flopped back down on the ground next to Dori. Shaking off residual chuckles, Nori coughed and said softly, “Look. I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are,” Dori answered without conviction, and a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Come now.” He helped Nori up, and packed their bedrolls with quiet efficiency, waving off Nori’s attempt to assist, and tucked them under his arm to take them to the wagon. As he passed his brother, he pulled the taller dwarf down, their foreheads meeting with a dull tap, before continuing on. Nori followed in guilty silence.

-

The rest of the trip was largely uneventful. Staying to the elven path through the Mirkwood, the party of dwarves remained unassaulted through the forest, though always closely watched. Emerging from the other side, the shores of the Long Lake stretched before them, and beyond, the peak of the Lonely Mountain towered in the distance. They set up camp at the edge of the forest, but seeing the sun hit the face of the Mountain the following morning, Nori’s breath caught in his throat for a moment, and he remembered when he had watched it rise from the mists when Bard was smuggling them into Laketown, all those years ago. It hadn’t been the first time he’d seen Erebor, but it was the first time it had really meant something. A similar feeling was filling his chest now as he stood at the edge of the water. The moment was rather ruined as he was suddenly tackled by Bofur, and the two disappeared, howling, into the chilly lake.

Dwalin too was howling, but with laughter, as they reemerged, spitting water at each other, Nori cursing in several tongues before attempting to drown his friend, to little success. Concerned over his brother’s injuries, Dori moved forward to intervene, but Dwalin grabbed the back of his tunic, pulling him back with a chuckle. Over to the side, the young guards were laughing as Bromur cheerfully shook his head, ignoring Bofur’s cries of “Bromur! Come help yer uncle, lad! Brooomurrrr!”

Finally escaping each other’s grasp, Nori and Bofur trudged back onto the banks, panting and drenched.  Bofur passed by his nephew, shaking a finger and proclaiming, “I’m tellin’ yer father ye were content t’let me drown, young lad, see that I don’t!” but with a grin, and no ire.

Dori crossed his arms and watched disapprovingly. “If you two are _quite_ finished-” he began before being interrupted by an untimely flick of Nori’s long, water-logged hair catching him full in the face. “WHY YOU-” Everyone on shore joined in cheering as Nori was chased back into the water, cackling all the way.

By the time they reached Erebor, Nori was largely back to his old self; ribbing Dwalin, telling stories with Bofur, joking with Bromur and the other guardsmen. Even Dori was in better spirits, despite Nori attempting to shrug off his ministrations at every chance. Bromur was sent ahead with the news of their return, and Bifur, Bombur, and Gloin met the party at the front gates. Their reunion was full of relief and joy. The only time Nori nearly lost his composure was when Gloin declared, “If only mah brother were here! He’d have you right in a heartbeat!” Forcing a smile on his face, Nori choked out a laugh and earnestly agreed.

 _I’ll tell them,_ he promised himself at the feast Bombur held in honor of his homecoming that night. _When the time is right. Aye, when the time is right…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a song! I keep wanting to add in songs from an ever-growing playlist that reminds me of various dwarves, but I always seem to forget. This one's one of my main ones for Nori.
> 
> Mountain Sound by Of Monsters and Men:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vT3HrrrHzII


	20. Secret Keeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new danger arises in the world, and a certain Fellowship is formed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Timeline note- Ok, so by the time the Fellowship forms, it'll have been a couple decades since Nori returned to Erebor in the last chapter (so basically, about how long I've been away from this story in real time is what I'm saying ahahaaaaaaa-Iamsoverysorry)
> 
> Well then. Onwards with the tale (finally)

But the time was never right. Again and again, opportunities would arise for him to finally tell his brother and their friends what he knew happened to their loved ones, and again and again he would ignore them, inventing reasons for why he could not speak. The years wore on, and Nori kept up his façade as well as he could, but there are things even he could not control. Under the strain of his secret, his auburn hair went completely grey, giving rise to mutterings about his perhaps waning capabilities as Spymaster. Despite silence from the party that brought him home, rumors spread that Nori was perhaps not as canny as he used to be. Rivals and opportunists took advantage of his recent incapacitation to strike. He viciously fended off several assassination attempts before they were fully convinced otherwise. It didn’t help that Dori and some of the others, worried and frightened for him, also encouraged him to retire. But he couldn’t. He needed this position, needed something to occupy his mind, for otherwise he surely would have gone mad.

And the news grew worse by the day. A continuous stream of dark tidings flowed in from all corners of the world. Fearsome armies amassing, dark banners being raised. War was coming, and all they could do was prepare.

A Council was called, and emissaries from the Free Peoples were to travel to Rivendell to attend. Gloin and his son, Gimli, were chosen to represent the Dwarves of Erebor, and they would sit with Lords from the Iron Hills and Ered Luin.

The day they were due to arrive in Rivendell, Nori went about his business as normal, but his mind was in a white panic.

 _Elrond will tell ‘em,_ he thought, outwardly calm as he sat through a meeting with Dwalin and the other war lords from the surrounding hills. _He’ll say something, an’ they’ll know…_

 _I should’a told ‘em, I should’a said as soon as I saw Dori,_ he screamed at himself while holding a door open for a passing lady, smiling charmingly as she acknowledged him.

 _I’m fucked._ He stared at the sword he was showing a recruit how to sharpen. _I’m dead already._

When Gloin returned alone, Nori braced himself, but the axe he expected to be swung at his neck was not forthcoming. Instead:

“Mah wee Gimli’s gone! Och, what am Ah goin’tae tell his mother?”

“Wot j’a do, lose ‘im in the woods on the way back?” As he joined the others in cajoling Gloin, Nori’s mind was racing. _He doesn’t know? Elrond said nothing…?_

It happened Lord Elrond had greater things to worry about.

“Gandalf was goin’ on some tosh that Sauron has risen again in Mordor! What nonsense, we thought, but then the Halfling boy, Bilbo’s nephew, Frodo is his name, brought out a bit o’gold the wizard said was the One Ring, forged in the fires of Mount Doom, and on and on, and before Ah know it, mah lad is volunteering tae join their quest tae chuck the bloody thing back in! All because he wouldn’t be outdone by that uppity little Mirkwood princling, harrumph. Which is just as well, dun get me wrong, but Gimli has no idea what he’s gettin’ intae! ‘By my axe’ indeed, laddie, that’s MY axe yer holdin’, aye...Ooh, Daedra’s gonnae kill me…”

Laughing, Nori slapped Gloin on the back, assuring him Gimli was well old enough to take care of himself, and still chuckling, excused himself from the welcome party, saying he’d come ‘round later if Gloin was still in once piece.

Once out of sight of the Company, Nori heaved a huge sigh. _Safe again. Well, I certainly can’t tell ‘em now, Gloin would be even more worried over Gim’, an’ that won’t do…I’ll wait til the next report in, an’ tell them then, yeh,_ he thought, same as every time he had in the past. After so many years, protecting the secret had become a habit for Nori.

One he would not have to keep for much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shamefully slinks out of wherever-it-is-I've-been* 
> 
> ...hullo again. To the two and a quarter people who might possibly still be reading this story, thank you, and I am so very sorry it has been so long since I've done anything with it :/ Uh. Yeah. Life, you know how it goes. Anyway, thanks for checking in on it, you're all fantastic augh thanks


	21. The Book of Mazarbul

Among his other interests, Nori tried to keep an eye on Gimli and the rest of his group, but a mysterious force always sent his ravens astray, his best trackers circling back on their own paths. Nori suspected it was some trick of Gandalf keeping the Fellowship hidden, and called off the trackers, trusting the wizard to keep them safe. What other choice did he have?

And so, he had no warning when the package arrived.

Delivered by a Man from Dale, he said it had been sent up the river and brought to the city by solemn-faced Woodelves. It gave him a bad feeling, cold, like, he said, and gave the box wrapped in water-proofed leather over as quickly as he could, leaving without so much as a backward glance.

The Gatekeeps exchanged confused glances, and unwrapped the leather to see who it was for. The oldest of them gasped.

 _Khazad-dûm_ , the box read, with a hastily, but unmistakable rendering of Balin’s seal drawn underneath.

The Gatekeep regarded the seal grimly. “Get Lord Dwalin.”

-

They stood gathered around the bloody book in Dwalin’s office, bound in dusty and torn cloth, the best Gimli could provide for in those cursed halls, as Gloin read out the hastily written letter enclosed with it.

Only a few snippits made it though the black haze of Nori’s mind; only enough to validate what he already knew.

_…fierce battle…cave troll…_

_…Cousin Balin’s tomb…_

_…Uncle Oin…west gates…the Watcher in the Water…_

_…enclosed is the Book of Mazarbul…written in Ori’s hand…_

When Gloin had finished reading, the scrap of paper dropped from his shaking fingers, and unable to stand any longer, fell to his knees before the book and wept bitterly. Bombur, the closest, dropped down beside him and tried to offer comfort while tears streamed down his own face.

Dwalin leaned his fists on the table, face still. Finally, he calmly pushed himself up, walked into the next room, and shut the door. Nori flinched as the sounds of furniture smashing into walls competed with Dwalin’s heartbroken wordless roaring. Bifur visibly steeled himself, and strode in after him.

To Nori’s side, Dori leaned back on a chair, his breath coming shallow as he tried to comprehend what they had just learned. Not knowing what to do, Nori hesitantly reached out a hand to his shoulder. The next he knew, Dori’s fists were buried in his jerkin and he was sobbing into Nori’s chest. Helpless, Nori wrapped his arms around his brother and held him tight, shaking with the effort to keep them both standing. Bofur made his way over from Gloin’s side and tried to lend his support, though he could barely see for tears. He put his arms around them both, head bowed into Nori’s shoulder.

Nori felt hollow. The tears would not come; it was like he had run dry, nothing inside but dust. As if from a great distance he heard Bofur’s words of sorrow, felt his brother’s sobs against his body. He had known all along, but all those years of keeping the secret had made him cold. He knew his suffering would come later, and it would be insurmountable. An apt punishment.

-

With nothing left to do, and unable to stand the feeling of hopelessness any longer, the remaining members of the Company dispersed for their homes, with the Broadbeam cousins opting to stay with Dwalin and help make his house feel not so empty.

Gloin’s home was on the way back to Dori and Nori’s halls, and the brothers delivered him into the arms of his wife before continuing on.

Dori’s tears had ceased, but he labored each step like one of the walking dead, blood-shot eyes staring at nothing. When the brothers arrived home, they stood before Ori’s darkened door, no words passing between them.

At a loss of what to do, Nori hesitantly reached up to give Dori’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Dori did not respond; his head was bowed and his face cast in shadow, so, hesitantly, Nori took a step back towards his own rooms on the other side of the hall.

As he reached his own door and opened it, Nori could see Dori still standing where he had left him. He opened his mouth to say something, but not finding any words, turned to go in.

“Did you know.”

Nori’s heart stopped. He stood frozen in his doorway.

“Wot?” he managed to croak out through a dry throat.

“Did you know, Brother,” Dori slowly raised up his head, and he stared at Nori with eyes that burned.

“Where did you go, Nori, on your last trip. You didn’t just go west, did you. You went south.”

Nori couldn’t speak. He had never been so afraid in his life, but of what, he couldn’t rightly tell. So caught in his fear, he did not notice Dori coming for him until he was being slammed into a wall. He gasped and choked while scrabbling at Dori’s hands locked into his jerkin and crushing the breath from his lungs. Dori’s voice crescendoed as he raged at his brother.

“Did you know, Nori, TELL ME! How long have you known Ori was dead. That he was never to come home, that we would never see him again? Did you find him, when you were down in Khazad-dûm? Did you see his broken corpse?”

As if suddenly disgusted, Dori dropped his hands from Nori’s shirt, and watched dispassionately as he slid to the floor, coughing and trying to suck in air.

“Why? _Why_ , Nori? How could you…” Unable to continue, Dori left him and walked away down the hall. At the far end, he turned one final time to see Nori still on the floor, eyes desperately pleading.

As his brother slammed the door shut on him, Nori caught the words Dori hissed under his breath.

“Would that it were you…”

Nori lowered his head, for once in full agreement.

“Would that it were me…”

\--

The next day, Dori’s door remained resolutely shut. Nori dared not knock, but did not stop Bofur from trying when he came to visit and sit a while, bringing food from Bombur’s kitchens.

“He jus’ needs more time, I’m sure,” Bofur said as he prepared to leave.

The following days showed no change. Dori’s rooms remained closed to all comers.

Nori tried to take his mind off their final confrontation, visiting each of their friends, all of them finding what comfort they could in each other, but it was driving him mad. Finally, he could take no more.

“Dori! Dori, c’mon now, open up, everyone’s arskin’ after ya!” This elicited no response.

Pacing a bit before the doorway, Nori started to get angry. “Stop being stupid, bruv! Yer not the only one who’s suffering. Dori, open up, or I swear I’ll have Dwalin’s crashers break down yer door!”

Furious now at his brother’s bull-headed stubbornness, Nori started pounding on the portal with his fists and feet, drawing blood from his knuckles. “Dori! DORI! What the fuck is wrong wiv ya?!”

Nori abruptly stopped short, his fist hovering an inch from the polished stone. How long had it been? A few days? A week? With no sound… Not daring to imagine, Nori put both palms against the door and leaned his forehead upon it. When he next spoke, it was in a soft and pleading voice.

“Dori? Dori, please let me in. No more games, alrigh’, no more secrets. I’ll tell ye everythin’, I promise, I’ll tell ye everythin’. Jus’ open the door, Dori, let me in. Don’t leave me all alone…Brother, please…”

The door moved inwards, and Nori fell to his knees. He opened his eyes to see Dori’s bare feet in front of him, and looked up into his brother’s face.

Dori was pale, thin, and haggard, as if he had not slept or eaten for days, but alive. Nori nearly sobbed in his relief, for he dared not believe that Dori had done himself a mischief while locked away in his rooms, or had simply given up and died.

Dori looked uncomprehendingly at his brother for a moment, but then, with an effort, knelt down to raise Nori back to his feet. He put his arms around him, and felt him shake with emotion. Drawing him closer, Dori whispered, “You idiot. I am not going anywhere.”

Nori did collapse into sobbing then, leaning into his brother’s chest and giving in to all the sorrow and hurt he had been hiding since Khazad-dûm. Dori held him tight, and stroked his hair as if he were a child again.

When Nori’s tears dried, the brothers sat in Ori’s rooms, and Nori told him of the journey south, finding the empty valley, the terrible Watcher, and the realization of Ori’s fate and the fate of all within the mountain halls. He spoke of the ambush, how he welcomed death, of Rivendell and the Lady Galadriel, of the weight he’d kept in his heart for decades.

At his story’s closing, Nori felt freer that he had in a long, long time, though still heartbroken, and utterly exhausted. Dori walked him back to his rooms and sat with him ‘til he fell asleep, singing to him in a low voice; songs about mountains and dragons and gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit between Nori and Dori in the middle bit there was one of the first parts of this story I had written. It was always going to come to this


End file.
